


this red planet is for you

by suheafoams



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Bisexuality, Colleagues - Freeform, Dumb Bois in Love as Usual, Happy Ending, M/M, Online Friendship, aka the we fell in love twice like idiots AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:21:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 43,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21776701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suheafoams/pseuds/suheafoams
Summary: “What are you doing here?” Hongjoong asks dryly, turning his head to look at Park Seonghwa, head of the sales department in KQ Studios, who’s leaned up against the doorframe like he’s using Hongjoong’s office for an impromptu photoshoot, except that’s how he naturally poses. All the time.“You’re as welcoming as ever,” Seonghwa says, with his perfect, white teeth and boxy, fake smile that never seems to reach his eyes. “I can’t visit my favorite person in the company?”“Who?” Hongjoong asks. “It’s not me.”(Hongjoong would be more adamant about establishing to Seonghwa that they arenotfriends, but whatever free time rolls over from his long workdays as KQ’s animation supervisor is reserved for his longtime online friend, Mars.)
Relationships: Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 370
Kudos: 1488
Collections: makes my heart run faster ft. gays





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> yoooooooooooooooooo wassup, your girl's back at it again with some seongjoong /throws up peace signs 
> 
> i wanted to finish this earlier but alas, it's a good way to start 2020. i proofread 40k words in one day so please don’t laugh if there’s big typo. my life is full of deadlines and this fic shouldn’t even exist 🤣
> 
> hope you enjoy!

✩ ✩ ✩

Hongjoong doesn’t look up at the careful knock on the open door frame of his office, expecting it to be Yunho or Mingi coming to him for revision notes on their current shots.

“Yes~” he answers pleasantly. “What is it?”

But instead of coming in or replying to Hongjoong, the visitor clears his throat politely, and Hongjoong (unwillingly) would recognize that voice anywhere. 

He should have realized sooner, to be honest. Neither Yunho or Mingi are very delicate about their knocks, preferring to barge in with their sentences already half finished and no regard for any of Hongjoong’s other responsibilities. 

“What are you doing here?” Hongjoong asks dryly, turning his head to look at Park Seonghwa, head of the sales department in KQ Studios, who’s leaned up against the doorframe like he’s using Hongjoong’s office for an impromptu photoshoot, except that’s how he naturally stands and poses. All the time.

“You’re as welcoming as ever,” Seonghwa says, with his perfect, white teeth and boxy, fake smile that never seems to reach his eyes. “I can’t visit my favorite person in the company?”

“Who?” Hongjoong asks. “It’s not me.”

Seonghwa just pouts at him, and Hongjoong shifts his gaze back to his computer screen, waiting for Seonghwa to stop sticking his lower lip out and tell Hongjoong what he’s come here for.

Hongjoong has never been good at dealing with people like Seonghwa, who say a lot of flowery things without ever meaning them, making a hobby out of misleading people into thinking they’re special for some unnamed motive. Hongjoong is definitely not Seonghwa’s favorite person in the company no matter how many times Seonghwa says it, and Seonghwa would not be Hongjoong’s favorite even if Hongjoong allowed himself to consider something so silly.

Not to mention the whole suave, clueless heartbreaker thing Seonghwa’s got going on. There are people who are unaware that they’re good looking, and then there’s Seonghwa. Abuser of the fortunate arrangement of his nucleotides, he utilizes his appearance to his full advantage in combination with his soothing charm and eerily tactful compliments to get what he wants from whoever he’s talking to in the moment. Obnoxious. 

The previous head of sales had been an older, ordinary looking man nearly twice Seonghwa’s age, which only made Seonghwa’s arrival even more dramatic when he clocked in the first day and promptly stole the hearts of both women and men alike with his bright eyes and perfectly curled comma bangs. 

Except for Hongjoong’s, of course. Hongjoong’s heart is still intact inside of his chest, because he’s immune to idiocy and also because he doesn’t believe a man as good looking as Seonghwa could measure up to his looks in terms of competence, even if everyone gushes about how good of a leader he is and no one ever has anything bad to say about him. People are unreasonably faithful when the subject involved is beautiful, after all.

Hongjoong runs a hand through his hair, fingers accidentally snagging one of the hoop earrings on his earlobe. “Are you going to tell me why you’re here or not?” 

“There’s paperwork for you to look through,” Seonghwa says, finally stepping inside the office and approaching Hongjoong, though not getting too close just yet. (Hongjoong has trained him to be careful.) “And then I have to herd you over to the meeting between all the department heads and sponsor representatives for the upcoming project next year.”

“You can’t just say I’m unavailable or something?” Hongjoong asks. He never says anything during the meetings anyways, simply tries his best not to doze off if an extremely important person is speaking.

“Your input matters, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa says sweetly, like that’s going to make Hongjoong believe him. Hongjoong’s going to choke him, is what he’s going to do. “Don’t just ask me to send you the overview PDFS and call it a day, please~”

“I am _busy_ ,” Hongjoong says. “Unlike you, I’ve got shit to push out by the end of the day, not just whenever I feel like it, and we’re already feeling the crunch of early deadlines for the current project.”

“I know, I know,” Seonghwa says. He never takes offense to Hongjoong’s brittle remarks but most people in the KQ sales department are thick-skinned enough not to, considering they need it for dealing with finicky client negotiations and crafty strategy planning. “It’ll only be thirty minutes, you can feel free to leave after that time if you really need to.”

He pulls gently at Hongjoong’s elbow. The gesture is firm, but not overly demanding the way other sales employees have been whenever they’re trying to make Hongjoong comply with their requests, and Hongjoong saves out a new version of his file begrudgingly before getting out of his chair and leaving the comfort of his own office to attend this stupid meeting. 

✩ ✩ ✩

Work meetings are horrible. Hongjoong hates listening to the same group of idiots engage in what they call meaningful problem solving and solution brainstorming, when it’s actually just them repeating the problem over and over again while everyone else with at least half a brain just bemoans the fact that they are making absolutely zero progress at the expense of precious time. 

Seonghwa is one of the few clear-headed people in the room, patiently waiting for people to give their input before either agreeing with them or telling them that they’re wrong in the most polite way possible. He has a knack for diffusing conflict before it breaks out across the large meeting table and people climb up to fight each other, and always manages to steer the discussion in the direction that it needs to go. 

That doesn’t change how Hongjoong feels about him, though. Being clear-headed and self-aware is nothing to be praised about when it’s a basic skill level, and Seonghwa has always been good at worming his way into people’s hearts and manipulating them into doing whatever he needs them to do.

The meeting ends on a relatively successful note, if successful means no one’s screaming across the table at each other or climbing up walls by the time the higher ups have decided it’s gone on for too long and schedule a follow up meeting for later in the week. 

Hongjoong dips out of the room with well-practiced stealth, but it’s a futile attempt at subtlety when Seonghwa catches up with him anyways, calling out his name so that Hongjoong stops and waits for him.

“Do you want to get dinner together later?” Seonghwa asks after he’s picked up enough speed to close the distance between them and walks side by side with Hongjoong.

Hongjoong needs an afternoon nap. “With me?”

“No,” Seonghwa says, and stops to jut his jaw out at a pole by the elevators. “With this inanimate pillar over here. _Yes,_ you. Who else?”

Hongjoong furrows his brow. “I have wo—”

“Work that can wait,” Seonghwa says, raising his eyebrows. He’s waiting for Hongjoong to disagree with him, and Hongjoong hates that he can’t really argue against Seonghwa’s point no matter how much he wants to crush the self-assured tone of voice the man is using. “You’re looking a little rough around the edges these days, so you deserve to eat some delicious food~”

“Rough around the edges?” Hongjoong says, and looks away from Seonghwa to step into the newly vacant elevator cab that’s arrived on their floor. “That’s a nice way of saying I look busted, Mr. Head of Sales.” It’s true that Hongjoong has been sleeping less these days, although it’s more because of poor decision making rather than him overworking himself, but he’s sure his under eyes look the same amount of _fucked_ regardless. 

“You know that’s not what I mean,” Seonghwa says, following Hongjoong into the elevator. “I just mean you’re tired and I want to treat you to a meal, okay?”

He bumps Hongjoong’s shoulder with his overly broad one, and Hongjoong’s about to consider the offer more seriously when a hand catches the closing elevator doors and a gaggle of women come in, greeting Seonghwa in a cheery chorus the moment they realize he’s here as well. They’re all dressed in suits or some version of formal wear, presumably from the sales department as well, and Hongjoong forgets whatever he was planning on saying in favor of moving closer towards the cab walls so there’s enough space for everyone. 

“Are you free for dinner today, Seonghwa?” one woman asks.

Seonghwa smiles unsurely, boxy grin looking more forced than the one he usually directs at Hongjoong. “I don’t—”

“We’re having a welcome party for Lauren,” another woman says. “It would be so sad if the head of the department didn’t show up.”

“Well,” Seonghwa says, and he looks at Hongjoong, unsurely, but the other women erupt into various versions of agreement, hounding Seonghwa into attending the welcome dinner all the way to the third floor. Also Hongjoong’s floor. “I think I have plans with—” 

“We can reschedule for any other time,” Hongjoong says to Seonghwa. “You should attend the welcome party for your employee.” It would be more meaningful for Seonghwa to spend time bonding with the people in his department, not so much with a rogue head animator like Hongjoong who he’s not even close to in the first place. 

Seonghwa’s face falls, though Hongjoong hardly notices or remembers it in the moment as he steps out of the elevator with only a polite “Excuse me.” 

He hears Seonghwa call his name out quietly, but he pretends not to hear and simply walks back towards his office. 

It’s not Seonghwa’s fault that he’s always being invited to _something_ , and well, Hongjoong should make good use of his own time at work while they still have time to catch up. He’s used to spending dinners alone anyway. 

✩ ✩ ✩

“You’re not going to dinner with Seonghwa?” Yunho asks, timidly holding onto the doorframe of Hongjoong’s office, as if it’ll diminish how much of a giant he is compared to Hongjoong. 

He’s one of the junior animators Hongjoong trusts the most, receptive to all critiques and never taking negative feedback personally, which makes Hongjoong’s job significantly easier since he doesn’t have to manage Yunho’s emotions like he does with some of the other animators. 

“He asked me to, but was intercepted by women from his department who wanted him to attend a welcome party for a new employee,” Hongjoong says. It’s not like he and Seonghwa had a prior agreement, however, so it’s odd that Yunho knows about plans that were never properly made. “How did you know about that?” 

“I mentioned that you take us to eat out occasionally when Seonghwa dropped by my cubicle,” Yunho explains, tapping his two index fingers together. “And he got really excited, saying that he was going to ask you to dinner because he wanted to see if you’d be less grumpy outside of work.” 

That absolutely sounds like something Seonghwa would say, since he likes to get on Hongjoong’s nerves under the pretense of _team bonding_ , except that they’re not on the same team and there is no reason for them to bond, ever. It’s a good thing Seonghwa’s stupid plan hadn’t worked out because Hongjoong is not some small animal for him to play around with, not cute or soft or one bit cuddly, and Seonghwa would have been disappointed anyway. Hongjoong is equally grumpy in all parts of his life, mood and attitude only changing depending on who he’s talking to and how much he likes them, not whether he’s at or outside of work. 

“Huh,” Hongjoong says, leaning back in his chair as he stops any further contemplating in his head involving Seonghwa. “Well, since I’m free, would you like to go eat something quick?” 

Yunho perks right up at that. “Can we get chicken?” 

“Sure,” Hongjoong says, putting on his jacket and laughing as Yunho lets out a gleeful shout and sprints back to his cubicle to grab his things. 

✩ ✩ ✩

Hongjoong used to adore his office.

It’s cozy and dimly lit, for the purpose of him being able to use his computer set up without any glare from bright lights, and while he isn’t much of a decorator, he’s got a small pile of stuffed animals at the far corner of his desk, one or two for every film project he’s worked on at KQ. On days where he feels like his work isn’t going smoothly, the stuffed animals remind him that his pain and suffering in his four years of overly expensive art school was worth it, and that he has and will continue creating work people appreciate even if he doesn’t ever expect it. 

His office is his space, his other “home” away from home when he wants to be left alone and work on his current assignments in isolation. 

Hongjoong _used_ to adore his office, until Park Seonghwa was hired and by some strange stroke of misfortune, decided he needed to be in Hongjoong’s personal bubble as much as possible any time he wasn’t busy working.

Hongjoong has no idea how he ended up in this situation. He doesn’t believe in the concept of people deserving or not deserving each other, but he believes in planes of existence, and he is definitely not on the same plane of existence as Seonghwa.

Seonghwa spends most working days looking like he belongs on the cover of a fashion magazine, sporting pin striped suits that would look ridiculous on anyone else and styling his hair so that half of it is back and the other half falls forward like a waterfall every time he looks straight ahead. Infuriating. Hongjoong is not so naïve as to think Seonghwa spends no time on his appearance in the mornings, but it sure feels that way sometimes, when Hongjoong just tries his best to wash his face and looks for a clean pair of black jeans that aren’t stained or ripped too dramatically in the knees.

Minding his own business has always worked out magnificently for Hongjoong. People stop bothering you once you’ve made it clear that you’re not invested in them, but Seonghwa either sucks at reading signals or refuses to read them at all (most likely the latter considering he doesn’t bother anyone else the way he bothers Hongjoong) because he makes a sport out of pestering Hongjoong whenever he’s passing by on the production team floor or whenever he’s taking a lunch break.

He’ll ask Hongjoong with a soft, pleading voice if he can touch the stuffed animals in the corner until Hongjoong has no choice but to give in, and then he’ll talk to Hongjoong through the stuffed animals, using their arms to lightly whack Hongjoong on the arm for a response until Hongjoong warns Seonghwa that he’s going to choke him to death if he doesn’t knock it off. Seonghwa is usually satisfied by then, throwing out an easy, nonchalant invitation as he leaves for Hongjoong to eat with him even though Hongjoong knows there are endless people in the company waiting to capture even a few minutes of Seonghwa’s time during lunch.

Beyond his neat, polished appearance, Seonghwa’s an overgrown, noisy puppy with a passion for making sure everyone likes him, who, even with everyone else’s eyes on him all the time, insists on going to the irritable kitten in the corner and disturbing its peaceful sleep. He’s the sort of puppy who likes a game of strategy, especially if it means entertainment and challenge are all mixed into one. 

In conclusion, Hongjoong only likes his office half as much as he used to, and he very much dislikes oversized puppies in the form of long-limbed humans named Park Seonghwa. 

✩ ✩ ✩

Seonghwa is married. Allegedly. 

Hongjoong forgets about that sometimes, until he hears people in the break room speculating about whether the ring on Seonghwa’s left fourth finger is real, or if it’s just an excuse to deflect any invitations he gets from people interested in him. 

Gossip in the break room is hardly ever productive or well-intentioned, especially not if it involves Seonghwa, but Hongjoong listens absentmindedly to the conversation anyway as he checks the snack pantry to see if they’ve restocked his favorite snacks. They have, and he takes one bag of salted mushroom snacks off of the shelf while the group of two women and one man a few feet away from him continue to deliberate over Seonghwa’s marital status. 

“Hongjoong,” one of the women says, suddenly, and Hongjoong looks up from the bag he’s trying to rip open. 

“Yes?” Her name doesn’t immediately come to mind, even if Hongjoong recognizes her as the one from the sales department who always stirs up unnecessary gossip about Seonghwa’s private life and work relations, with a snippy, shrill voice and lips that are always tinted bright fuchsia pink. 

Hongjoong scrambles for variations of names that start with _H_ before realizing the woman doesn’t seem to care at all whether he knows her name, because she just asks, “Do you know whether Seonghwa’s married or not?” 

Even if Hongjoong knew the answer to that, he wouldn’t say anything. As much as he finds Seonghwa annoying and puppy-like and a hindrance, the last thing Seonghwa needs is fuel to a fire that never gets put out and more speculation over every aspect of his existence by people who are too nosy for their own good. 

“I don’t know,” he says, and the woman squints at him doubtfully. 

“Really?” she asks. “Or are you just protecting him?” 

“Protecting?” Hongjoong says. He wishes this conversation would end faster so that he can eat his seasoned mushrooms sooner. “I don’t know the guy well enough to want to protect him, and he can protect himself just fine, don’t you think?” 

“I thought you two were close,” she says. “Seonghwa hangs out with you a lot, doesn’t he?” 

“Really?” the other woman says. 

“Nope,” Hongjoong says, popping the _p,_ and shoves a well-seasoned, crispy mushroom cap into his mouth before they can ask him anything else useless. 

✩ ✩ ✩

Hongjoong sees Seonghwa on the roof, sometimes, leaning against the safety handle bar, silently watching the city skyline by himself. He always looks tired, probably because he never lets himself go into _off_ mode unless he’s totally alone and safe from curious eyes, and Hongjoong always heads back downstairs in order to let Seonghwa escape for a little while longer. 

(It’s not because he cares about Seonghwa. It’s just that Hongjoong is the sort of person who avoids rather than seeks out burdens to shoulder even if he sees someone suffering.) 

It’s an entirely different story if it’s Hongjoong who’s on the roof first. Seonghwa’s boxy smile will power up like his battery is fully charged, and he’ll try to lure Hongjoong into lighthearted conversation even though Hongjoong’s fully aware it’s just a front to be polite. 

Hongjoong doesn’t need small talk with Seonghwa (or anyone else) in order to feel like he matters. Maybe some people do, but Hongjoong is _just_ fine with simple greetings and no follow up questions about how he’s spent his weekend or what he’s been up to in his personal time, when people talk just to talk and don’t actually care about anyone other than themselves. Seonghwa probably knows that too, because it’s part of why he’s so well liked; it’s rare that he talks about himself and he merely inserts a few questions here and there in conversation until people are spilling their whole life stories to him. 

_You don’t have to pretend,_ Hongjoong’s wanted to tell Seonghwa on multiple occasions. But Hongjoong’s heart has always been icy, especially towards people who haven’t had to work as hard to get handed success on a platter, and the gesture would be unnecessary when Seonghwa has plenty of people who care about him more than Hongjoong ever will. 

✩ ✩ ✩

“I’m sorry about before,” Seonghwa says, a few days later. His hair is wavy today, and Hongjoong hates how effortlessly Seonghwa nails a hairstyle that would make anyone else look like a poodle with a perm gone wrong. Hongjoong can’t even make fun of the man in his own head because there is _nothing_ to pick at, and he aimlessly scratches at an itch on his face as Seonghwa explains, “It was hard to refuse them, when there was a whole group of them yelling about me attending the welcome party.” 

“That’s fine,” Hongjoong says. “You were just asking me to dinner because you had some free time, right?” There are people you seek out specifically because they’re important to you, and then there are the people you spend time with in passing, because they’re just...there. 

Considering Seonghwa only drops by Hongjoong’s office whenever he’s got time to waste and energy to burn, Hongjoong’s most likely in the latter group for him. Someone like Seonghwa has to have a personal schedule packed to the brim with social events and interpersonal obligations, and Hongjoong would hardly be a priority amongst all of that when they don’t even know each other’s phone numbers. 

“Right,” Seonghwa says, voice a tad odd, but the tone of it quickly resumes its normal, playful quality. “I’m here to reschedule, though! You said we could.” 

Hongjoong tilts his head, pretending not to remember. He’s in a good mood today so he’ll humor Seonghwa. “Did I?” 

“You—” Seonghwa says, flustered for a moment before he catches the way Hongjoong’s lips pull upward at the corner. “You’re being mean.” 

“I would never be mean to you,” Hongjoong deadpans, holding in a laugh.

“That’s definitely a lie,” Seonghwa says, miffed. “You’re mean to me every time I come in here.” 

“That’s how I show my affection,” Hongjoong says airily. “Don’t you know that?” That earns him a contemplative look from Seonghwa. 

“I like affection better in the form of eating meals together,” Seonghwa says after a slight pause, and Hongjoong rolls his eyes at how smoothly Seonghwa transitions into asking for what he wants. A salesman, indeed. “Are you free now? It’s almost six.” 

“I could be,” Hongjoong says, and Seonghwa’s eyes light up, all sparkly like a puppy who’s been given a new toy to chew on. The shift in attitude is… cute, before Hongjoong reminds himself that he should not subjectively find a grown man like Seonghwa any variation of adorable, and that if Seonghwa weren’t so objectively good looking, Hongjoong’s heart wouldn’t have budged an inch. He lets out a wistful sigh, to supplement the false hesitation as he says, “But I just have _so_ much work to do.” 

“That’s the face you make whenever you’re about to say yes and you just want to bully me,” Seonghwa says, and Hongjoong laughs. Despite their differences, Seonghwa has successfully and smartly picked up on Hongjoong’s style of communication after endless days of pestering Hongjoong. “Pack up your things and save your files. I’ll treat you.”

The additional offer makes Hongjoong raise his eyebrows in interest, and although he keeps his eyes on his computer screen, Seonghwa catches the facial expression change instantly.

“I’m winning. Your resolve faded as soon as you heard I would treat you,” Seonghwa says, leaning into Hongjoong’s space so that he can block part of Hongjoong’s left monitor, fluttering his eyelashes. If Hongjoong were a cat, he’d have sunk claws into Seonghwa’s stupid face before Seonghwa even finished the first fluttery blink. The reality is that Hongjoong’s only human, so he just leans back to watch Seonghwa’s nonsense unfold in front of him. 

“Are you?” Hongjoong asks, but he doesn’t protest as Seonghwa pulls his backpack off of the floor, a very on-brand way for Seonghwa to nonverbally say _hurry up_ without being rude about it.

It is sort of true that Hongjoong needs a breather away from his current shot assignment. An hour or two away won’t hurt him. Accepting that at last, he saves his file before closing Maya and drags the latest five versions into his USB in case he needs to review the shot at home, ejecting the drive once the files are done transferring.

“The keychain is pretty,” Seonghwa says, draping Hongjoong’s backpack over his own shoulder as he waits for Hongjoong to finish up. “Is it a beetle?”

He’s peering at the scarab beetle earring Hongjoong’s attached to his USB, which shifts green, purple, or blue depending on the lighting you’re looking at it from.

“Yeah,” Hongjoong says, thumbing at the smooth resin encased in metal bordering. “It’s actually an earring.”

“Really?” Seonghwa says. “You should wear it then.”

“It’s too heavy for my preferences,” Hongjoong explains. He’d ordered it online on a whim, belatedly realizing when it arrived that its indicated size and materials on the website listing should have been a red flag for its weight. “And the old artists would have a riot about it if I went around wearing flashy stuff like this.” 

There’s not much of a dress code at work, but Hongjoong would rather avoid the simultaneously innocent and irritating questions about why he dresses the way he does or wears earrings that would “look nicer on women.” Hongjoong is too tired from everything else he deals with at work to be worrying about how his choice of self-expression might change people’s opinion on his work ethic. 

“Would they really?” Seonghwa says, catching on easily to what Hongjoong’s implying about workplace prejudice. “People are more tolerant than you think.”

“Maybe with you, pretty boy,” Hongjoong says. “You could go around wearing a paper bag and have everyone drop to their feet regardless.” 

Seonghwa is tall and handsome and amiable, considered non-threatening by the older generation because he’s considered more of an idol in KQ than an attainable man within reach. Hongjoong, on the other hand, is prickly and unfriendly in both his appearance and style of speaking, and he’s not willing to change the intonation of his voice just so that some old fuck stops having a bone to pick with him because of their own insecurities. 

“You’re exaggerating,” Seonghwa says, but his lips are pulled into a wide, open smile, and somehow he looks like he’s in an even better mood than a minute earlier when Hongjoong finally agreed to eat dinner with him. 

“Why are you smiling like that?” Hongjoong asks, taking his backpack from Seonghwa. He thinks his sarcastic delivery of the compliment was clear enough, but Seonghwa probably took the words at face value for his own convenience. 

“No reason,” Seonghwa says, and pulls at Hongjoong’s elbow. Hongjoong is glad that at least this time, it’s not an office meeting he’s being dragged to, but a destination with food. “Let’s hurry before the dinner rush starts~”

✩ ✩ ✩

Hongjoong doesn’t really know what to expect. He’s never socialized with Seonghwa outside of work, so he doesn’t know what kind of food Seonghwa likes or which parts of town Seonghwa likes to frequent. Seonghwa does ask Hongjoong if he has any specific restaurants he wants to eat at but Hongjoong leaves the choice up to Seonghwa, since he’s a little curious about what the head of KQ Sales will pick.

If he doesn’t speak, Seonghwa looks like the type of person who only eats at upscale restaurants, with glossy tabletops and strict dress code guidelines and waiters that have been professionally trained in all aspects of etiquette. 

(Hongjoong is not sure why he’s always around when something is happening to Seonghwa, but he’s heard Seonghwa get asked out multiple times by people from the sales department or even other departments.

“Will you treat me to steak~?” Seonghwa will always joke, before deflecting the invitation gently with his ever-impeccable manners that makes him a hit with everyone, even the people he’s rejected in the past.)

That being said, Hongjoong has also heard Seonghwa mention fried chicken and greasy take out in passing (along with a story about Seonghwa trying to wash out the chili sauce stains from his favorite white t-shirt), so he’s pretty sure Seonghwa isn’t nearly as high maintenance as he appears to be. 

They end up at a little Chinese noodle shop at the corner of a small plaza a few cities over. Seonghwa bumps Hongjoong playfully in the shoulder before opening the door so that Hongjoong can enter first, and Hongjoong is too busy observing his surroundings to return the gesture. The interior of the shop is decked out in modern-style tables and chairs, while the walls are plastered with what looks to be black and white photos of Chinese landmarks and generation-old snapshots of Chinese immigrants standing in the same area the restaurant is located now.

There’s only one family and one couple currently in the restaurant, which makes Hongjoong doubt how good the food is when it’s so empty, but the place starts to fill up quickly after Hongjoong and Seonghwa have been seated, and Hongjoong’s worry fades. 

“This is my favorite place to go recently,” Seonghwa says. He’s caught the eyes of a few other guests sitting at other tables, but he’s probably used to it and doesn’t look anywhere except straight at Hongjoong. “Not sure if you’ll like it, but it’s a genuine recommendation.” He opens up the menu and points out the restaurant’s specialties as well as his personal favorites, explaining briefly what Hongjoong might like or not like depending where his preferences lean. 

Hongjoong does like the food. He orders one of Seonghwa’s recommendations, a noodle soup bowl with beef, chili peppers, cilantro and peanuts. The broth is flavorful, albeit a bit oilier than Hongjoong would prefer, but the rice noodles are soft and bouncy and Hongjoong will probably make another visit here when he’s in the mood for Chinese food. 

He doesn’t realize Seonghwa is waiting for a verdict until he’s made it through nearly a third of the contents in his bowl and suddenly becomes aware of Seonghwa’s watchful gaze on him.

“Do you like it?” Seonghwa asks. 

“Yes,” Hongjoong says, a little surprised by Seonghwa’s earnestness. “Your taste isn’t _so_ bad, Mr. Head of Sales.”

Seonghwa sticks his chin out, pretending to be offended. “When is my taste ever bad, Hongjoong?”

Hongjoong simply makes a face to taunt him, and Seonghwa pouts back but makes no further move to act out on his irritation, just resumes finishing his own bowl of noodle soup.

It’s a little bit of curiosity but more the spur of the moment that makes Hongjoong ask the question. After all, Seonghwa’s not one to bristle at personal inquiries, and Hongjoong doesn’t have anything to lose if he accidentally offends Seonghwa and the man never speaks to him again. Could totally be a win-win situation. “You’re married, right?” 

Seonghwa chokes on his soup, though not too badly, and he recovers quickly enough that Hongjoong doesn't have to reach over to pat him on the back or attempt a Heimlich maneuver. “What?” he asks, baffled. “Who’s talking about that?” 

Hongjoong shrugs before pointing at Seonghwa’s ring. “It’s a heavily discussed topic in the break room, if you weren’t already aware.”

“I don’t…” Seonghwa says slowly, trailing off for a bit until realization dawns on his face. “Oh.”

Hongjoong raises his eyebrows. “What?”

“It was Helen, right?” Seonghwa says. He sets down his chopsticks on his napkin so that he can pick up his phone and search for something. “The one who always speculates and spreads gossip like wildfire. She asked me about my ring once, and I told her that it was up to her imagination.”

“Oh, so her name is Helen. I knew it started with an _H_ ,” Hongjoong mumbles, and Seonghwa laughs loudly, before showing a group photo he’s pulled up on his phone where Helen is standing in. Even if everyone’s faces aren’t very clear, the bright fuschia lipstick is a dead giveaway. “Yeah, that’s her.” 

“She’s worked in sales for like two years, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa says. Hongjoong shrugs, because he sometimes has trouble remembering the names of everyone in the production departments even if he knows their faces, and the employees in sales really have nothing to do with him despite how frequently he sees them. “Did she talk to you?”

“Yeah, she wanted to know if I knew about your ~marital status~,” Hongjoong says, before the rest of his brain catches up and recalls how Seonghwa had answered Helen. “Wait, what kind of whack answer is that?”

“One that makes things interesting,” Seonghwa says, picking up his chopsticks again. He polishes off the residual bits of green onion and meat on the ends before dousing the chopsticks into the soup to search for something. (The boiled quail egg, Hongjoong finds out a few seconds later.) “I assumed it would keep her occupied for a while before she latched onto her next victim.”

Hongjoong watches the chili oil drip off of the peanut he’s holding in his chopsticks before he pops it in his mouth. “So,” he says, waiting until he’s chewed and swallowed to continue the rest of his sentence. “You decided to let Helen gossip about you for a while longer, so that she wouldn’t go and gossip about someone else?”

“Yeah,” Seonghwa says. Earlier, he’d ordered a boiled, marinated egg on the side and he directs his attention to it now, taking one half and putting it into Hongjoong’s bowl, making sure not to splash any broth on Hongjoong. “Why? Is that weird?”

That’s… definitely not something Hongjoong would have ever expected from Seonghwa, considering how much of a curse it’s considered in the company if you’ve piqued the interest of magenta lipped blabbermouth Helen or any of her other gossiping friends. Hongjoong doesn't think anyone besides Seonghwa would ever sacrifice themselves just to keep other people out of the hot seat. He wouldn’t. “You’re… unexpectedly considerate.” 

“Unexpectedly?” Seonghwa echoes, amused. “That’s offensive, Hongjoong.”

“It’s a compliment,” Hongjoong insists. “I don’t know if I’d be that nice about it, if I were in your situation.”

“It’s nothing special. No matter what I do, not everyone will like me,” Seonghwa says, shrugging. “I don’t really care if they talk that much when they don’t actually know who I am.”

“Does it bother you, then, when people have preconceived notions of you based on false information?” 

“People are always going to assume things about you whether or not your reputation is squeaky clean,” Seonghwa says. “It’s not worth stressing myself out over.” 

“That’s an interesting way of looking at it,” Hongjoong says. He remembers, back in college, that the occasional rumor would pop up about him occasionally, and it always annoyed him to no end that people would believe blatant lies as long as the person telling them those lies was convincing enough. It makes sense, though, that Seonghwa is no longer bothered by strangers misunderstanding him when it happens so often; he’s had to practice not caring until it’s second nature for him, because it comes with the territory of being so high profile in the company. “So what’s the real answer?”

Seonghwa smiles. From the look in his eyes, it’s evident he’s spotted an opportunity to play games. “To what?”

“You know what,” Hongjoong says. “Don’t play stupid.”

“Now you know what you make me go through on a regular basis,” Seonghwa says, sticking his tongue out in defiance. “Want to make a bet on it? Whether I’m married or not?” He’s waving the secret in front of Hongjoong’s nose like a feather toy, waiting for Hongjoong to take the bait and play chase with him. 

But as much as Hongjoong’s personality resembles a cat, he’s never been the type of person to go after moving targets and he hates games as soon as they get overly complicated. Perhaps that’s why his relationships with some of the more sensitive animators aren’t...the best, because he has zero interest in fostering harmony if it means he has to babysit someone’s emotions, along with the fact that he hardly ever beats around the bush and usually cuts straight to whatever it is that needs to be said, brutal or not. 

“Hell no,” he says, as he reaches out to pretend and grab Seonghwa’s collar from across the table. Seonghwa doesn't even flinch, and that’s another thing Hongjoong dislikes about him, that unlike everyone else, Seonghwa doesn’t find Hongjoong scary or intimidating at all. “That’s unfair, because you know the answer to that and I don’t, so betting on it is pointless.”

“Okay, then new plan,” Seonghwa says. “I’ll tell you for real if you eat dinner with me again.”

“What a chore.”

“An easy one compared to any of the other things I could have asked you to do,” Seonghwa points out, while Hongjoong tries to fit a stubbornly large bundle of bok choy into his mouth. “But you’re my favorite in KQ, so I’ll play nice.” 

“Why are you so interested in spending time with me?” Hongjoong says, once he’s conquered the mouthful of leafy vegetables. He and Seonghwa don’t have anything in common, and Hongjoong hates half-assed friendships because they’re a waste of time. Even if Hongjoong wastes plenty of time when he’s by himself, that’s what he likes about it, that he gets to make poor time management decisions in _solitude_. 

“It’s a simple answer,” Seonghwa says. “But you won’t find that out either until our second dinner together.” 

Hongjoong narrows his eyes. He’d wanted to cut things off after today because it’s smarter to be on guard around Seonghwa, but he can already tell his curiosity towards whatever else nonsense Seonghwa has to say is the type of itch that will keep coming back even if he ignores it. 

“You think you’re so slick, don’t you? Do you make it a hobby to always leave people hanging?” he asks. 

Seonghwa winks at him. “Only with the people I want to see again,” he says, and Hongjoong knows better than to think Seonghwa means it.

✩ ✩ ✩

Hongjoong would be more adamant about establishing to Seonghwa that they are _not_ friends, but whatever free time rolls over from his long workdays as KQ’s animation supervisor is reserved for his longtime online friend, Mars.

Mars is a man Hongjoong met nearly two years ago, back when Hongjoong was still attempting to post art regularly on Twitter and Instagram to maintain his following under the username _rising_hjune_.

He’d noticed that with almost every post, even if it was personal or not specifically relevant to his art, user _PkMars_ would always leave a like and a comment for Blue, Hongjoong’s online alias.

On a post about being sick: _Blue, take care of yourself!!_

On a post about creative burnout: _If you need it, it’s totally okay to take a break. It’s up to you whether you stop creating or continue creating, and we’re lucky just to be witness to what you’ve already done, Blue. Feel better~_

On a post about feeling happier, paired with a small sketch: _Blue, it’s so nice that you’re happy! That makes me happy too._

It was a matter of time before Hongjoong had reached out to Mars, because he’d been planning for a while by then to stop running the art account, but he still wanted to hold onto one of the nicest parts of his experience as an artist looking for exposure on social media. He’d checked and double checked that he was messaging the right account before hitting enter. 

_hi mars,_

_wanted to tell you that this account will most likely become inactive, but your support has always made me smile on days where i didn’t think it was possible to smile anymore. now i work full time at an art-focused job that’s more about tinkering around on computers and drawing has never been my forte, anyhow._

_will continue to be active on twitter, though i’m not sure how frequently i’ll be on it. feel free to reach out to me there if that’s something you’re interested in. thanks for everything regardless._

_blue_

Two days had passed without Hongjoong receiving anything in response, and he’d figured it wasn’t a big deal. Mars wasn’t obligated to reply to his messages considering they were strangers who only briefly interacted, but Hongjoong had woken up the third day to a new follower on Twitter and one unread message from user _PkMars._

_Blue!!!!!!!!_

_I got nervous so I couldn’t message you back right away, I’m sorry!_

_I’m so glad you let me know! That makes me feel special :) I’m excited to hear that you seem to be doing well at your full time job, although I’m a little sad to know you won’t be posting your amazing art anymore. I would more than love to keep in touch with you on Twitter._

_How are you today?_

_Mars_

For a whole minute, Hongjoong had stared at the message in disbelief at the fact that Mars had replied and was just as sweet in conversation as he was in the comments he would leave for Hongjoong. It’d made Hongjoong a little nervous, too, once he’d known Mars was nervous, but he’d started to type a reply back anyways, thrilled at the possibility of a new friend. 

✩ ✩ ✩

Hongjoong had always found online friendships a little strange, let alone online relationships.

It was, and still is, a little impossible for him to imagine making a connection with someone based off of words exchanged on a digital platform, with no context for who the person was beyond how they chose to present themselves to a stranger on the Internet. There was no body language, no voice to hear, no way of knowing how much of what was reflected in a seemingly non-tangible conversation held true in real life.

He remembers watching _Catfish_ with his roommate back in college, where the hosts would help episode guests meet up with the person they’d been dating for _years_ , only for the guests to realize that their supposed significant other was nothing like the pictures they’d been sending. One guy realized his sweet-looking blonde girlfriend was in reality a model who knew nothing about him working in another country, while another girl realized the guy she had been dating long term was actually a girl who had let the lies get too far. It seemed silly, that these people would put years of faith into compulsive liars who hid behind fake avatars and never followed through with plans to meet in person because it would blow their covers.

But then he’d met Mars, and well. Hongjoong had fully understood every guest on _Catfish_ at that point.

They’d warmed up to each other instantly. For them, conversations flowed easily, naturally, and they never ran out of topics to talk about because there was just so _much_ to share with each other. None of Hongjoong’s previous online interactions had lasted very long, considering he always lost interest in the other party and rarely felt compelled to reveal enough of himself to get attached to anyone.

Mars is different. He’s sweet and inquisitive and understands Hongjoong in ways Hongjoong never really expected to be understood in his life, especially not by someone who’s never met him and therefore doesn’t know whether anything Hongjoong says is truly valid. Mars sends messages in neat, blocky paragraphs but takes great amusement in Hongjoong’s spotty, one line messaging bubbles that Hongjoong is too excited to condense into more organized paragraphs. Hongjoong knows that Mars likes things clean and neat, so he tries to type with more structure when he can remember to, but that often falls apart very quickly, and he thinks Mars doesn’t really mind his chaos anyways if he’s stuck around Hongjoong this long.

Beyond Mars’s personality, Hongjoong doesn’t know much about the man. Only that Mars is twenty seven, works in sales, and he likes cleaning, cooking, and watching films in his free time. Hongjoong doesn’t know Mars’s real name, but Mars doesn’t know Blue is really named Hongjoong, either, and it’s never really mattered when they know almost everything else about each other.

He’s only seen snippets of the man through elusive pictures Mars sometimes sends, of a sweet drink in his hands or a new pair of fuzzy home slippers Mars is excited to have finally received in the mail. Hongjoong tries not to think about how long Mars’s fingers look, or how much he likes the golden olive undertone of Mars’s skin, because he’s not sure… whether Mars wants to meet him? That’s the one thing they’ve never discussed. Hongjoong is bold and expressive in everything except desires that feel too scary to admit, so he steers clear of that topic. 

Hongjoong doesn’t believe in soulmates, even hates the word because it leaves a weird aftertaste in his mouth and his brain, like the cheesiness of nine arbitrarily arranged letters might be just so overwhelming that it translates to physical sensation. 

But he does believe in once in a lifetime miracles that change _everything_ , and that’s why he holds on so tightly to the friend he’s never met but loves with his whole heart, because he’s not sure a miracle as rare and wonderful as Mars is ever going to happen to him again.

✩ ✩ ✩

Despite Hongjoong’s resolve not to get dragged along by Seonghwa’s antics any further, Seonghwa somehow manages to lure him to dinner a second time, promising a real explanation for the ring he always wears and also the truth of his undisclosed marital status along with some delicious barbecue. 

(Hongjoong agrees because he likes eating barbecue and collecting information about people, that’s all. It’s not that deep.)

Turns out, Seonghwa isn’t actually married. He’s never been married, not even once, and Hongjoong uses his teeth to viciously rip off a beef cube from the metal skewer he’s holding as he offers Seonghwa the most disappointed face he can physically muster.

“You look disappointed,” Seonghwa says. 

“I was hoping for a melodrama, preferably with betrayal and divorce, but I shouldn’t have let the suspense get to me,” Hongjoong says. Seonghwa seems to laugh, but he also looks a little bit like he’s crying whenever he does that amused giggle thing, since the corners of his mouth tend to pull downward and his eyebrows slant up towards the middle.

“You don’t seem like someone who would be interested in hearing about trivial, petty matters like that,” Seonghwa says. The waiter brings over their last dish, baked eggplant wrapped in aluminum foil, and Seonghwa rearranges the skewers on the other dishes, combining them where possible so that empty plates can be cleared out for the eggplant. “Are you?” 

“I wouldn’t want to talk to Helen for eight hours every day, if that’s what you’re asking about,” Hongjoong says, “but it’s natural to be a little curious, isn’t it?” 

Seonghwa just hums, amused. “Do I look like a guy who’s divorced?” he asks, pulling at a stringy chunk of shiny baked eggplant until it breaks off from the outer skin. “And if that were the case, why would I still be wearing the ring?” 

“You seem like the type of person who’d experience the type of romance they write about in tv shows, a drama-worthy plot,” Hongjoong says. He stares dramatically into the distance as his imagination runs wild, half watching in amusement when two waiters bump into each other by the kitchen and start to argue about whose fault it was that they collided. “And I don’t know, maybe you’re still deeply in love with your beautiful ex-girlfriend even after the feelings have been cut off.” He rolls his eyes at himself, words sounding sillier in reality than they did in his head. “Helen’s rubbing off on me. I need a personality detox.” 

Laughing, Seonghwa places another metal skewer into his neat pile of finished, empty ones on the side of the table, running his other, clean hand through his hair. “My life is really not that interesting. I’ve had my fair share of heartbreak along with a few uneventful relationships.” 

“Hard to imagine,” Hongjoong says. From an objective standpoint, Seonghwa possesses all of the traits that make a man easy to love for anyone who’s still naive and dreaming about finding a Prince Charming, but maybe there’s some catastrophic flaw about him Hongjoong hasn’t seen yet. 

“It’s easier to imagine than you think,” Seonghwa says lightly. “I wasn’t always… so okay with myself. I struggled a lot, because self-perception is so much more powerful and consuming than other people’s ideas of who you are. You, on the other hand—” he stops, coughing into the inside of his elbow because of the spice. 

Hongjoong pushes Seonghwa’s water closer to him. “You good?” 

“I’m fine,” Seonghwa says, taking a sip from the glass.

Hongjoong licks his lips. “What were you about to say, before?” 

“I was saying that you seem like you don’t need people, because you’re so prickly on the first impression and you don’t really go out of your way to make people feel welcome,” Seonghwa says.

Hongjoong thinks _here we go again,_ because he’s heard the same shit a million times from people who think they know what Hongjoong is about, but he’s surprised when Seonghwa continues with, “But isn’t that a silly idea? That someone doesn’t feel emotions just as vividly or need comfort just because they’re not as expressive with their thoughts.”

“Maybe I don’t,” Hongjoong says, feeling oddly transparent in front of Seonghwa. “Maybe my insides are all cold, hard metal.” 

Hongjoong has always been misunderstood by other people as someone incapable of feeling hurt, someone capable of producing work again and again and again without ever needing acknowledgment. His silence, an inherent trait as well as the result of Hongjoong being mindful of his words, was often taken as a threat, rebellion, or worse, lack of engagement back when he’d attended art school, but he’d refused to speak more than he meant to even once he realized that people who chattered away about nothing were taken more seriously than those who spoke a few meaningful words at a time. 

_(“Your face doesn’t change much, whether the teacher is praising or criticizing your work,” Yeosang had mentioned once, after Hongjoong had received a poor evaluation in their film production course. Hongjoong had asked for feedback because his grade hadn’t been an accurate reflection of his effort, and the instructor had merely brushed him off with some excuse about how Hongjoong didn’t participate enough in his group, when he’d been one of the strongest pillars in their teamwork. “Maybe they think you don’t care?”_

_“So I have to laugh or cry just because of someone else’s words?” Hongjoong had replied. “When the only productive thing is to keep moving forward?”_

_Yeosang had shrugged. “I think you’re fine just the way you are, but people who don’t take the time to know you will never see how much you care about everything you do.”)_

“Your insides are definitely not metal,” says Seonghwa, and Hongjoong glances up at him, surprised. “You’re a little thorny and you look like you don’t care about other people’s feelings, but you always listen closely even if you pretend to not pay attention.” 

Well, Seonghwa has spent enough time in Hongjoong’s office that it’s not necessarily special that he’s figured out Hongjoong’s temperament. “How wonderfully observant of you,” Hongjoong says, ignoring the way his heart starts to beat a little faster. “For all you know, I could be paying attention so that I can collect information about everyone to use against them. But not bad, considering your job requires you to understand people.” 

Seonghwa pout-frowns. “Hongjoong, please give me a real compliment~” 

Hongjoong raises his eyebrows. If Seonghwa asks so nicely, then he’ll deliver. “Your perception of human nature is just so awe-inducing, I’m about to fall out of my chair. Can you catch me if that happens?” 

“Forget it,” Seonghwa says, sighing. “I’ll just wait until I do something that earns genuine praise from you.” 

“Come back in a few years,” Hongjoong jokes, and Seonghwa chews his grilled slice of _baozi_ grumpily. 

“You asked me last time why I was so interested in spending more time with you,” Seonghwa says after a slight pause in their conversation. 

“I did,” Hongjoong says, wiping his hands on his napkin to get rid of the grease before he picks up another skewer, and decides he’ll parrot Yunho’s words back to Seonghwa, to see if Seonghwa remembers. “Is it because you want to check whether I’m ‘grumpy outside of work?’ If you haven’t noticed already, I’ll just tell you now that I’m equally grumpy no matter where I am.” 

“No,” Seonghwa says defensively, before asking, “How do you even know that?” 

Hongjoong smirks at him. “Yunho’s in my department, so it would make sense for him to tell his boss what the head of sales was saying behind his back, don’t you think?” 

“It was a joke,” Seonghwa wails. 

“Jokes can be harmful when poorly executed,” Hongjoong says, shaking his head as if to show genuine disapproval, and Seonghwa gapes at him. “I can’t believe you would say that about me. I thought we had at least some mutual respect for each other.” 

“You’re not really mad, are you?” Seonghwa asks. “I can’t tell, because you mess with me too much.” 

“I’m kidding,” Hongjoong says, and that seems to relieve Seonghwa of his concern, though he still frowns at Hongjoong’s prank. “You know, I’m starting to think the real reason you want to hang out with me more is because you _like_ being bullied.” 

“That’s not it,” Seonghwa says, with a long suffering sigh. “You’re so… It’s because you don’t do anything unless you want to, and you only give compliments when you’re sincere about them. Your personality is refreshing because it operates in a different way from mine, even if you’re a little meaner to me than my treatment towards you warrants.” 

“The grass is greener over here, is it?” Hongjoong chuckles. “I can only tell you that it’s very satisfying to be mean, and only half as satisfying to be nice.” 

“Don’t play the bad guy,” Seonghwa says. “Other people might believe you, but I don’t.” 

“In this world, there are only bad guys, just depends _how_ bad,” Hongjoong says. He doesn’t play the bad guy so much as he plays the realist, but those two roles might overlap in Seonghwa’s mind. “Getting close to me won’t bring you any joy, Seonghwa. I’m not secretly dying for attention, and I won’t become nicer just because you talk to me more often.”

“Debatable,” Seonghwa says. “When I can see the cracks in your behavior so clearly.” 

There is nothing left on Hongjoong’s chopsticks, but he chews at the ends of them anyway. Hongjoong wants to be understood, but not like this. Not by Seonghwa, at least, because Seonghwa is troublesome. “What cracks?” he asks, squinting. 

“You’re inherently nice, before you notice what you’re doing and act like it’s an accident,” Seonghwa says. “And you pretend like you’re unsociable because you hate the company, but it’s because you hate small talk. If someone has something interesting or authentic to say, you’ll listen to them.” 

“Is it fun to dissect people’s personalities?” Hongjoong asks. “Do you want me to tell you whether you’ve gotten mine right?” 

“It’s fun if they turn out to be kind at the core,” Seonghwa says, and he smiles. “Not as much if they’re just rotten inside, though. And you don’t have to because I know I’ve gotten yours right~” 

“Maybe you should dig further,” Hongjoong says, and he can feel his cheeks starting to warm. He hates puppies who barge in and take all the attention, but he also hates puppies who try to shine the limelight on _him,_ when Hongjoong doesn’t want it in the first place _._ “I’m a multi-faceted person, after all.” 

“You are,” Seonghwa says. “I’ve seen you give gifts to the cafeteria ladies when no one is around to see. Someone who was really mean wouldn’t do that.” He does a double take when he realizes Hongjoong’s face is turning pink. “Are you blu—” 

“No,” Hongjoong says, despite his face getting even hotter. He wasn’t aware Seonghwa had seen him, that time, and he’d only given the cafeteria employees gifts because one of them reminded him of his mom, sweet and kind and caring to a fault. Something undefinable curls at the pit of his stomach, and he hopes it’s hatred towards Seonghwa for being unnecessarily nosy. “And you weren’t supposed to see that.” 

“Why not?” Seonghwa asks, tilting his head, chopsticks pausing. It makes his comma-shaped bangs fall into his eyes, and Hongjoong… does not find it endearing. 

Seonghwa seems to know Hongjoong isn’t going to answer him, so he smiles and changes the subject with: “You know, there is a story behind the ring.” 

“Oh?” Hongjoong raises his eyebrows as he picks up a grilled sliced _baozi_ skewer and pulls one of the slices off with his teeth, dipping it into extra spice seasoning they’ve been given in a little bowl on the side. His face starts to cool off now that they’re talking about something else, which he’s grateful for. 

“You look like you don’t trust me,” Seonghwa says.

“I don’t,” Hongjoong says. The crunch of the slightly browned _baozi_ edge and savory flavor of the spice seasoning fuse together into delicious meltiness, and Hongjoong decides to award Seonghwa brownie points for feeding him well even if Seonghwa is less likeable in every other aspect. “Because you’re in sales, and you made me spend more time with you in order to tell me the answer to a question I already knew.”

“I gave you confirmation for a hypothesis you could never fact-check yourself,” Seonghwa says. “If I hadn’t given you a straight answer today, you would have wandered the halls of KQ for the rest of your time here, wondering whether I was a married man or not.”

“You’re so self-absorbed,” Hongjoong says.

“Everyone is, to an extent,” Seonghwa says, with a knowing grin. “I’m just honest about it.” 

Hongjoong stops to consider that, and shrugs when he can’t think of anything to oppose the argument. 

“Do you want to hear the story?” Seonghwa asks, and Hongjoong nods. Because. Why not. He’s got nothing better to do while he devours his share of the remaining lamb skewers. “You seem enthusiastic for someone who just said they don’t trust me.”

“I don’t trust you, but I like to be entertained. There’s a difference,” Hongjoong says, which has Seonghwa scowling at him briefly. “So tell me your story about your ring.”

“It’s hard to explain, but—” 

“Don’t hurt your brain,” Hongjoong says obnoxiously. 

Seonghwa licks a chili flake off of his bottom lip before he glares at Hongjoong. “I’m going to stab you with this metal skewer.”

“And murder your best listener?” 

“So shut up and listen to me,” Seonghwa says. 

“Mean,” Hongjoong mouths, but Seonghwa ignores him in favor of moving on with what he’s planning to say. 

“I wear the ring for someone I’m really close to,” Seonghwa says. “It’s a nice reminder that I have them in my life.” He wiggles his fingers, twisting the ring while he talks. “I never really thought that they would have any interest in me, since they were so… their personality seemed impenetrable, at first, but they actually reached out to me first and we immediately got along.” 

It’s a much more sentimental explanation than Hongjoong was expecting, considering he’s never seen Seonghwa as someone who would find anyone else unreachable or unattainable, when he’s usually the one closed off to everyone else. Whoever he’s wearing the ring for must be superhuman, a celestial being residing among tiny, fickle mortals on Earth. 

“The person you’re dating?” Hongjoong would assume it’s a woman, but Seonghwa’s ambiguous reference to the person’s gender doesn’t go unnoticed by Hongjoong, and Seonghwa has never explicitly disclosed his preferences. 

(Not that Hongjoong expects or thinks anyone is entitled to that information unless Seonghwa wants to share it, because Hongjoong had avoided thinking about his own sexuality for years, constantly falling back on the excuse that he was enough of a misanthrope to put off figuring out why his eyes lingered on boys just as much as they did on girls.)

“Not exactly,” Seonghwa says. His facial features are always gentle, but his face somehow goes even softer, and Hongjoong is both appalled and amazed by the person making Seonghwa look like this, all sappy and affectionate, even if he’s never met them. “We’re not… the best word I can use to describe them is that they’re my soulmate.”

“Wow,” Hongjoong says in awe. _Soulmate_ is one of the last words he would expect to come out of Seonghwa’s mouth, but it’s not as cheesy or awful as Hongjoong usually finds it. “How _romantic_ of you.”

Seonghwa’s ears redden immediately, and he covers them as he tries to calm down. “Shut up.”

“I’m complimenting you,” Hongjoong says, although Seonghwa’s reaction is valid, since Hongjoong often forgets to remove the natural sarcasm that slips through his tone of voice even if his words are genuine. “Why are you telling me to shut up?”

“Because you’re making fun of me,” Seonghwa says. “I took you to eat barbecue but you’re laughing at me for being cheesy and believing in something stupid like soulmates, right?”

The broadness of Seonghwa’s shoulders in his fancy, black overcoat and the meticulous styling of his hair radiate the aura of a man who’s grown confident in his own skin, but the gaze he directs at Hongjoong is both sullen and expectant, like that of a child waiting for approval and acceptance even as they pretend not to need it. 

Seonghwa is throwing so many curveballs today. Hongjoong stares at the last of the chicken gizzards, and Seonghwa pushes the plate towards him, indicating that Hongjoong can eat the rest. 

“I don’t think it’s stupid,” Hongjoong says, shoving three pieces into his mouth at once. 

Seonghwa pouts at him in response, like he’s afraid Hongjoong is going to follow up with a cruel joke, but the pout gradually fades when he realizes Hongjoong is being serious. “...Really? You don’t think it’s weird?” 

There are plenty of weirder things to believe in. As much as he likes to pretend he’s hostile, Hongjoong doesn’t think how Seonghwa or anyone else chooses to live their life should be criticized as long as they’re not hurting anyone in the process. He wouldn’t advise Seonghwa to bring his soulmate up in an office meeting, but there’s nothing really wrong with believing that people have designated other halves and being lucky enough to have experienced it firsthand. 

For a moment, he considers telling Seonghwa about Mars. 

But Seonghwa already sees too much of Hongjoong despite all the barriers Hongjoong’s built, despite all the words Hongjoong chooses not to say. 

“Just because something doesn’t apply to me doesn’t mean it’s weird or out of place,” he says, and Seonghwa looks relieved, until Hongjoong adds, “But no guarantees that I won’t hold it over your head as blackmail in the future.” 

“Hongjoong!” 

“Just kidding. I am not that invested in your life,” Hongjoong says. 

“You don’t need to stab me that hard with your indifference,” Seonghwa says. “It hurts my feelings.” 

“You’ll live,” Hongjoong says, and Seonghwa cuts what’s supposed to be a Very Mean glare at him, except Seonghwa isn’t malicious enough in his core to inflict any harm at all. Hongjoong decides that he’ll be benevolent and offer Seonghwa a sliver of his real opinion. “It’s just cute, I guess, since I’ve never seen you in that light before. You’re not a walking, talking, smiling robot anymore, Mr. Head of Sales, you’ve got _depth_.”

“I hate you,” Seonghwa says, and Hongjoong cackles before he gets up to pay their bill. 

✩ ✩ ✩

Seonghwa and Hongjoong exchange phone numbers. 

“No,” Hongjoong says at first, because he doesn’t plan on having any more dinners with overly cheerful soulmate-enthusiast Park Seonghwa, and he certainly doesn’t need any other KQ employees hounding him for information once they start to realize Hongjoong and Seonghwa have spent time together outside of work, and have each other’s _contact_ details. 

But then Seonghwa’s lip quivers and his eyes go glossy, and he looks so much like a puppy begging for a bone that Hongjoong feels guilty _not_ giving his number out. He recites it just fast enough that there’s a chance Seonghwa won’t be able to record it in time, but a few seconds later, he gets a call from a new unknown number that perfectly corresponds with the massive grin on Seonghwa’s face. 

“Save my number, too,” Seonghwa says. 

“If I do that, I can’t pretend to miss your calls,” Hongjoong replies wistfully, and Seonghwa gapes at him. 

“What kind of—don’t ignore me if I call you!” Seonghwa says. 

“You’re not my real dad,” Hongjoong says, raising his eyebrows. “You can’t tell me what to do.” 

“We’re the same age, of course I’m not your dad,” Seonghwa says, exasperated. He swipes Hongjoong’s phone and takes it upon himself to save his own number in Hongjoong’s contacts. Hongjoong doesn’t fight him on it because he’s just getting a kick out of Seonghwa getting all huffy, and he doesn’t actually mind doing as Seonghwa asks. “There.” 

“You chose a puppy emoji for yourself?” Hongjoong asks when he sees how Seonghwa has named himself in Hongjoong’s phone. Of course. That must be why Seonghwa uses his puppy eyes every time Hongjoong wants to say no to him. 

Seonghwa nods, and to Hongjoong’s growing dismay, adds proudly, “I put a cat emoji for you, because you’re a tiny goblin kitty who’s much nicer than he looks~” 

Hongjoong’s gonna kill him. 

✩ ✩ ✩

Hongjoong does not kill Seonghwa. 

He lets Seonghwa live, because Seonghwa is his ride back to the company where Hongjoong left his car and Hongjoong is amused (not fond of, at all) by the way Seonghwa’s face brightens like he’s won the lottery whenever Hongjoong agrees to his whims. 

✩ ✩ ✩

The closest thing to _love_ Hongjoong has ever felt is probably the larger than life, undefinable fondness he feels for Mars. 

After a long, painful crush on a girl throughout all of middle and high school, Hongjoong’s affection towards her had dwindled down to little more than a slight ache for what could have been, his interest in star-crossed romance mostly replaced by an aversion to any feelings of attachment. Even years later, new sparks of attraction to any acquaintances were quickly crushed by his hectic schedule or taken out by his own refusal to let things go beyond noncommittal cordiality. 

But he’d fallen for Mars hard and fast, because Mars had taken one look at Hongjoong’s bared, raw soul and decided Hongjoong was just what he wanted, not too little and not too much. He liked all of Hongjoong’s silly, wordy stories even when Hongjoong was self-conscious about talking so much, when his blocky paragraphs of text seemed like giant, burdensome creatures compared to Mars’s shorter responses. 

Hongjoong is whole enough by himself as one person, not particularly in dire need of his other _half_ because loneliness is something he’s grown used to, even something he prefers sometimes when he’s reminded of how awful humans can be _,_ but his heart has never been anything less than full with Mars around. 

_I love you, Blue,_ Mars sends every time he’s thinking of Hongjoong, and Hongjoong is too scared and too grateful for any fraction of Mars’s love at all to ask what type of love he means. 

✩ ✩ ✩

Seonghwa starts to leave candy on Hongjoong’s desk and inside the pockets of whatever jacket Hongjoong hangs on the back of his office chair. A little lemon drop here… sour gummies... the occasional foreign import of chocolate from Germany or Switzerland.

Hongjoong usually just pops them into his mouth whenever he finds a new one. He won’t go out of his way to buy sweet things for himself, but he also doesn’t mind having a little treat occasionally, and Seonghwa probably has too many gifts from his never ending line of female suitors to finish all of the edible gifts by himself. 

✩ ✩ ✩

_You seem more cheerful lately, Blue._

The message comes in just as Hongjoong finishes showering, droplets of water from his hair dripping onto his laptop keyboard. Hongjoong sits down and pushes his hair back so that any remaining droplets get soaked up by the towel around his neck, peering at the screen. 

_do i?_ Hongjoong types, hitting send as he thinks about Mars’s observation. _but i’m always cheerful when i’m talking to you so_ ✌️

He waits a few seconds, before adding, _on second thought, maybe not. i talk abt a lot of dumb sad shit in front of u_

Mars starts typing, three pulsing dots appearing for a few seconds before Hongjoong’s laptop lags as usual and stops showing it at all. Besides the occasional lag on some websites, his dinosaur gaming laptop has survived well through college and all the years following, even if he only uses it when he wants to type on a physical keyboard and be in bed at the same time. 

_Nothing you say is dumb, even if it’s sad. I like hearing you talk! But I’m also cheerful whenever I’m talking to you, Blue. I just think that you’re enjoying work these days, more than you were before._

_oh,_ Hongjoong replies, considering what the recent changes in his days at KQ have been. 

...Seonghwa. Seonghwa is what’s different. 

It’s not like Hongjoong actually… likes Seonghwa. It’s just that he’s gotten used to him, and Seonghwa is not as one-dimensional as Hongjoong originally thought, so him visiting Hongjoong’s office is not something to dread anymore. 

Hongjoong explains with, _i have a coworker??? that i’ve been hanging out with, but i haven’t decided whether i like him yet_

_If he got you to hang out with him, he’s doing well already, isn’t he?_

Hongjoong stares at his ceiling for a moment. _i guess ur right,_ he tells Mars. 

_So what’s stopping you from liking him?_

_why r u making me question all my life decisions mars_

_Sorry. I’m just curious. You either like or dislike people, but you never spend more time than you need to with people you don’t ~vibe ~ with, so it seems like he’s different._

_he’s just…_ Hongjoong sends that out before he realizes he doesn’t have the rest of his sentence planned out, but he knows Mars will wait for him to finish his complete thought process. _he’s not really the sort of person i gravitate towards. he’s super social, super floaty, tall and handsome and Loved By Everyone, ya know? i thought he was just some guy who got handed everything to him in life because of his looks, but he’s… god this is going to sound so stupid but he’s a lot more human than i expected?_

_It’s not stupid,_ Mars interjects. _It’s very hard to see the imperfect, human parts of other people because our personalities are pretty filtered through in any interaction with people other than ourselves._

_tru,_ Hongjoong says, before going on to describe Seonghwa further. _anyways, he is very much like a big, dumb puppy but he’s kinda fun to talk to and our conversations never really die, plus he has a good understanding of people even though he doesn’t look like it…_

_Wow,_ Mars says. About a minute passes before his next message comes in. _I kinda feel like I should be jealous of him._

Hongjoong stares at his laptop screen, waiting for Mars to tell him it’s a joke or explain what he means. Mars does neither, so he sends, _why do you say that??_

_You seem like you’re very fond of him._

_why would you be jealous of someone who just works at the same company as me? ur...u. not some guy who i can’t even tell whether i like yet._

_I don’t know. I’m just being silly, I guess. There’s so many people who come into contact with you every single day and don’t know how lucky they are, and hearing about a real person who gets to spend time with you is...surreal? It’s just me being… childish._

Hongjoong could ask to meet. He knows Mars lives in the same state as him, so it wouldn’t be out of reach or crazy expensive. But Mars has never brought up the idea of wanting to see Hongjoong in person, at least not explicitly, and Hongjoong is somehow scared that even if the stars align and they end up meeting face to face, neither of them will live up to each other’s expectations, and that very fear of inadequacy and disappointment is what always prevents the big question from leaving Hongjoong’s mouth. 

So he avoids it as smoothly as possible, like the adult he is. 

_mars, u know ur like… the only person i can talk to about anything, right? everything,, i have to split different categories of topics for all my other friends but not for u. I L o v E Y O u_

_I think my insecurities make me feel like you’re just saying that, but I feel the same way about you, Blue. I’m so glad we met._

_heart eyes, man,_ Hongjoong sends, knowing that Mars will respond with every possible emoji variation of hearts, and thinks about what it would feel like to hold Mars’s hand. 

✩ ✩ ✩

Yeosang rarely visits Hongjoong since he’s so busy being technical director of the 3D visual development department, a position that Hongjoong had easily pictured Yeosang taking on when they were still in school together even if Yeosang had been so full of doubt towards his own future. They can laugh about it now, because it’s so easy to connect the dots when they look back, but it hadn’t been easy for either of them, as college students, to connect the dots looking forward. 

When Yeosang does visit Hongjoong, though, he makes sure to do it in absolute stealth. 

“Hello,” a voice says, quietly, and Hongjoong’s heart does a triple flip off the edge of a cliff before he manages to follow it so he can grab it and shove the poor organ back in his chest. 

He closes his eyes for a few seconds to let his heart rate return to normal before spinning his chair around to face Yeosang, who’s somehow snuck up on him without him realizing even though Hongjoong is easily disturbed by the tiniest of noises. “Can you not scare the shit out of me like that?” 

“Should I have tapped you on the shoulder first?” Yeosang asks, smiling. 

“There’s something called _knocking_ ,” Hongjoong says, but he’s not that irritated with Yeosang. He never can be, considering Yeosang was his closest friend in college, where they suffered together in the windowless computer labs with horrible air conditioning and rogue, broken floor tiles. 

Yeosang scratches his head. “I don’t know what that is.” 

“Unsurprising, considering that you know everything about Maya but not how to un-zoom your screen in Google Chrome,” Hongjoong says, and Yeosang laughs. “Why are you here?” 

“Wanted to pop in and see what you were working on.” 

“You can ask me to send it to you without walking all the way over here.” Hongjoong scrubs through the timeline in his open Maya program reflexively. He’s gotten a majority of the blocking done, but there’s still a long way to go. “And there’s nothing worth seeing yet.” 

“That’s what you always say,” Yeosang says, but he doesn’t press Hongjoong any further. “I heard through the grapevine that you and Seonghwa are getting close lately.” 

_Heard through the grapevine_ means that Hongjoong should go and tape Seonghwa’s big mouth shut, since Yeosang is relatively friendly with Seonghwa and that’s probably the only reason he’s hearing about this. 

“What? No,” Hongjoong says, and Yeosang gives him a doubtful look. Hongjoong sighs. “We just had dinner a few times, and he likes to bug me while I’m trying to get stuff done.” 

“Don’t know about you, but that sounds like bonding to me,” Yeosang says. “I bugged you in college and ate chicken wings with you late at night, and that’s how we became friends. Seonghwa’s a good guy, anyways. Do you still not like him?” 

“I never… _disliked_ him,” Hongjoong says, squinting because both he and Yeosang know how fat of a lie that is. 

“At one point you said he was a mindless goon surrounded by equally mindless flies,” Yeosang says. 

“I don’t remember that,” Hongjoong lies. 

“Sure you do,” Yeosang says. “You’re just pretending to have forgotten so that you don’t have to admit that you’ve changed dramatically enough to consider him a friend now.” 

“Friends?” Hongjoong shakes his head. No way. “It’s called reluctant time-sharing.” 

“Shut up _,_ ” Yeosang replies. “Y’all are _friends._ Defined loosely as people you hang out with in your free time because you find each other cool. Like us.” 

“We’re not friends, though?” Hongjoong jokes, and Yeosang walks over to wrap his cold fingers around Hongjoong’s neck in preparation to choke him. “Yes, we are, we’re _best_ friends, Yeosang, best buddies for life—” 

“Good,” Yeosang says. “You don’t get to stop being my friend, ever.” 

“Even when you neglect me for a month?” 

“That’s because you don’t like talking to anyone in person and you always hurry home to talk to your stupid lover boy!” Yeosang argues, and Hongjoong sputters indignantly at the reference to Mars. “And you know I’m not good at replying to messages online.” 

“Mars is not a lover boy, he’s my friend,” Hongjoong says. “And it’s not that you’re bad at messaging back, it’s because I’m not important. You don’t have to lie to me, Yeosang, I’m self aware.” He covers his eyes with his arm in mock despair, and Yeosang shakes him by the shoulders in protest. 

“Don’t make me feel guilty,” Yeosang says. “I’ll try to be a better texter.” 

“You’ve literally said that every year since we graduated college,” Hongjoong says. “Don’t bother. You’re going to be ninety years old and still be a bad texter.” 

“Then maybe you should come see me in person more,” Yeosang says, crossing his arms over his chest. His hoodie jacket, custom made specifically for the 3D modeling team after a film release a few years back, is starting to wear down at the sleeves. Hongjoong has the same one, just that his says _Animation_ where Yeosang’s says _3D Modeling._ “But I guess Seonghwa takes up a lot of your time now, huh?” 

“Stop making it weird,” Hongjoong says. “He’s just bored.” 

Yeosang looks vaguely exasperated at that, and Hongjoong is not sure why. “Are you that stupid?” Yeosang asks. 

“Hey buddy,” Hongjoong says. “When did you become so vicious? Is this how you treat your junior modelers, too, because they might not be able to come into work anymore after you’ve obliterated their hear—” 

Yeosang just shakes his head and hits Hongjoong in the shoulder. “You should be nicer to him, Hongjoong.” 

“Why?” Hongjoong blinks. “Did he say something about me being mean?” 

“He says you misunderstand him a lot,” Yeosang explains. “...And that he can’t figure out which candy he should buy for you since you seem to eat all of them just fine with no preference.” 

Hongjoong’s eyes widen. “I thought those were just gifts he was getting from other people.” 

“Seonghwa doesn’t re-gift things unless it’s practical for him to pass on something to another person,” Yeosang says, sighing. His fingers make an appearance, darting out of his sleeves to rub at his temples. “I can’t stand you being this idiotic.” 

“Then sit down, dummy,” Hongjoong says, annoyed, and he and Yeosang hurl increasingly childish insults at each other until Mingi comes in to ask for Hongjoong’s opinion on the acting reference video he’s taken. 

✩ ✩ ✩

Naturally, Hongjoong tells Mars about his surprising discovery, although it’s not so much something he discovered than something he was told outright, since Yeosang felt the need to intervene for Seonghwa and tell Hongjoong to be less of a dick. 

_apparently my coworker likes me more than i initially thought? my friend told me i shld be nicer to him_

After sending the message, Hongjoong takes his laundry out of the washing machine and transfers his damp, heavy clothes into the dryer stacked above the washing machine. He makes sure there’s nothing too fragile he’s forgotten to separate and air dry, and then he sets the time for an hour and hits the start button. Dryer whirring to life and clicking agreeably as it starts to turn the clothes inside, the noise of it has him nearly missing the notification for Mars’s reply, but then he catches his phone lighting up from the corner of his eye before it goes dark again. 

_You always underestimate how much people like you, when you’re cute and smart and funny. And that’s a good idea, probably! Everyone can be nicer to some extent._

Mars is always so positive. Hongjoong wonders if he’d be the same way or change after seeing Hongjoong in real life. He refuses to follow that train of thought because it will most likely take him somewhere he doesn’t like, so he sends back: 

_u know why tho,,,, the RBF be my pitfall of life,,, along with my boring ass personality_

_Even if you have RBF,_ Mars replies, _I’m pretty sure people can see the cute parts of your personality immediately once you start to talk. And you’re not boring, Blue. : D_

_i talk cuter when im talking to u,, since u won’t judge me_

Mars’s reply is instantaneous. _Why did my heart just clench at that : >>_

Hongjoong doesn’t really flirt, ever. He used to do it as a joke to Yeosang, sometimes, because he knew Yeosang would always get the humor of it and play along, but otherwise, he was conservative with his feelings and never really met anyone he wanted to flirt with anyways. 

With Mars, though, Hongjoong feels safe, like it’s okay to ask for what he wants and be a little bold, a little shameless. Mars always reciprocates with equally affectionate words, probably not even aware that his good-natured replies reassure Hongjoong that he’s not completely incapable of receiving love. 

_H E A R T CLENC H b I T Ch,_ he sends back. 

_♥♥♥♥♥_ _You made me laugh out loud_

_h el l yea, wish i could hear it. Bet ur laugh is cu t e !!!!_

_My laugh sounds weird :( you wouldn’t want to_

_all laughs, esp urs, r cute even if they’re goofy. Therefore ur wrong !!!_

_Mmmmm debatable_

_conclusion : mars’s laugh is cute, no objections allowed here_

They argue back and forth until Mars gives in, and then the conversation shifts to Mars describing a new friend he’s made at work, who’s apparently a little rough around the edges but very sweet when Mars had actually gotten to know him. They’ve hung out after work a few times, and Mars has managed to get his icy coworker’s contact information so they’ll probably see each other more. 

Mars is more talkative than usual, and for once, his incoming messages are the blocky ones while Hongjoong adds in an emoji or a reaction to show he’s listening. 

_He’s very cute!_ Mars says, _and a really really really nice person, even though he misunderstands my intentions a lot and thinks i’m not sincere when i talk to him_

Hongjoong scowls. How could anyone believe Mars is insincere when he radiates sincerity even though his tweet and online messages? 

_why would someone ever misunderstand ur intentions when ur so nice??? and kind??? and perfect??? i gotta talk to this rockhead and let him know what a great person you are tf , he better square up ,, imma fight him_

_Noooooo he’s not a rockhead. You’re embarrassing me~ I tend to be nice to everyone at work but i’m not close with anyone, so I think he took that as me being bored when I was trying to get closer to him. i don’t...know yet but i think i can trust him, because he’s got a mean mouth but always makes sure i’m not too tired to drive home and asks about what i want to eat!!_

_so i don’t have to beat him up?_

_No, thankfully,_ Mars says. _i would be very sad if u did that_

Hongjoong is more than thrilled to hear that Mars actually has found someone he likes, since Mars so often mentions feeling lonely at work, and it’s hard for him to get close to people when he’s not sure if they just want to see what he can offer them. Hongjoong can easily see someone like Mars being taken advantage of, with his natural desire to help everyone over himself and his willingness to sacrifice and ignore his own feelings just to make sure other people aren’t hurt. 

But Hongjoong sees an opportunity that he can’t help but take, because just enough time has passed that Mars might not catch on right away, and Hongjoong has always loved bullying the people closest to him. 

_wow,_ Hongjoong sends, and laughs when Mars asks him what he’s wow-ing about. 

_i’m kind of… i feel upset_

_!!! what about? what’s wrong?_

Hongjoong cackles, for his own enjoyment really, since there’s no one to listen to him when he’s alone in his own apartment, and answers: 

_i think i’m jealous :((((( my skin is turning green mars, bc i am just so?? jealous of how ur coworker gets to see u_

Less than a minute later, Mars sends only an ellipse, signaling silence. 

_…_

_too much?_ Hongjoong asks. _should i leave the chat or deactivate my acc or what_

_Are you mimicking me!!!!? Blue!!!_

_ahahaha_

_I was so worried, but you were just making fun of me. i know i was being childish!! goodbye to friendship, Blue!!_

_Noooooo mars pls,_ Hongjoong says, still laughing, and spends the next ten minutes appeasing Mars by spamming him with flower and animal emojis and some additional wheedling until Mars forgives him for the silly prank. 

✩ ✩ ✩

After some time, Hongjoong realizes with certainty that Seonghwa is… handsy. 

All of Seonghwa’s gestures are innocent, but he takes every opportunity given to touch Hongjoong whenever they’re talking, and it’s only increased as of late. Hongjoong is not bored enough to figure out whether it’s specific to him or Seonghwa is simply like this with everyone. Yeosang is the same way with Hongjoong, but only when he’s horribly amused by something and needs Hongjoong to be the knee that he slaps, and they _have_ been friends for over six years, so it’s become second nature to flinch as soon as Yeosang makes any noise akin to a laugh. Hongjoong has not been friends for Seonghwa for six years, however, so he hasn’t yet learned what the precursors are for Seonghwa feeling like he needs to reach out and touch Hongjoong. 

Hongjoong and Seonghwa are on the rooftop of the KQ building, their only company consisting of a few men smoking on the other side. It’s a little windy, but the breeze is traveling in the direction that takes the smoke away from them so there is no lingering secondhand smoke. 

Hongjoong can see the blinking warning light of a low battery over Seonghwa’s head, but Seonghwa’s put on his brightest Business Smile, which Hongjoong has learned over time is reserved for whenever Seonghwa’s not in the best mood and is trying to overcompensate for it. 

“I like your outfit,” Seonghwa says, reaching out to adjust the collar of Hongjoong’s denim jacket so that the hood of Hongjoong’s sweatshirt sits neatly on top of it. His eyes drop down, and Hongjoong is usually annoyed by people who scan him from head to toe, as if they’re sizing him up, but he’s gathered enough data on Seonghwa by sheer exposure to know that it’s just how Seonghwa looks for compliments to give. “The velvet knee patch on your jeans is cute, too.” 

“Can’t tell whether you actually mean that,” Hongjoong says. Seonghwa finds a way to compliment everyone as a conversation starter, but all of his compliments are unique, so Hongjoong can never really be too sure. 

“Of course I do,” Seonghwa says. “I like all of your outfits, Hongjoong. They fit your personality and they’re very flattering on you.” 

“Thank you,” Hongjoong says, shivering when Seonghwa reaches up to smooth out Hongjoong’s hair and accidentally brushes Hongjoong’s cheek with cold fingers. He should flick Seonghwa’s hand away so that he learns not to touch Hongjoong so casually (for Hongjoong is a mean kitty with claws), but he already knows Seonghwa’s not in the best of spirits. It would only sting to watch the remainder of what little joy is present in Seonghwa’s gaze completely drain out of him, so Hongjoong won’t be mean today. “Did something happen?” 

The words are out of his mouth before Hongjoong can stop himself, but as much as he tries to convince himself that he doesn’t like Seonghwa all that much, it’s difficult to watch Seonghwa pretend to be happy when he clearly isn’t. 

Seonghwa is wearing a parka on top of his suit jacket, and he sticks his hands back in his pockets to warm them up when he’s done rearranging Hongjoong’s hair. “What?” he asks. 

“You don’t…” Hongjoong says, sighing. “You come up to the roof whenever you’re sad.” 

Seonghwa raises his eyebrows, probably not having expected that from Hongjoong. “How did you…?” 

“You’re up here first, sometimes,” Hongjoong says. He wants to roll his eyes at himself for bringing up a subject he didn’t really even want to dive into in the first place, but his rare streak of empathy chose now out of all times to make its grand entrance, and Hongjoong is a man who always follows through with what he’s started. “When there’s no one to watch you or bother you up, you’re completely different.”

“I…” Seonghwa trails off. His shoulders slump and his eyes go half-lidded, now that he’s realized he can’t fake the cheerfulness around Hongjoong. He’s not any less pretty, like this, his long, thick lashes accentuated by him looking downwards, but it’s almost like he’s a different person just from a simple shift in posture and facial expression. “Sorry.” 

“No,” Hongjoong says. Now that he’s seeing slivers of Seonghwa’s off mode, it’s a little unsettling to see how much effort Seonghwa puts into showing the best version of himself at all times. Hongjoong has times when he’s upset, too, but it doesn’t really affect the way he interacts with other people because his general disposition is not dependent on his emotions. “Why are you apologizing?” 

“Because you had to see me when I wasn’t at my best,” Seonghwa explains. “And I don’t like showing that side of me.” 

“I didn’t tell you that so you could feel bad,” Hongjoong says. He considers reaching out to touch Seonghwa in some way since Seonghwa seems like the kind of person who feels comforted by someone’s warmth, but Hongjoong hardly even hugs his family or friends, so he keeps his hands at his sides. “I’m just saying that you don’t have to pretend all the time. People won’t stop overstepping boundaries if you only smile at them and then go up to the rooftop to curse them out when they can’t hear.” 

Seonghwa laughs, which makes Hongjoong feel relieved. He didn’t know how Seonghwa would take his opinion, whether it would be too invasive or overstepping some invisible boundary in Seonghwa’s mind.

“I don’t do that. Curse people out, I mean,” Seonghwa says. 

Hongjoong nods. “I know.” Seonghwa is the type of person who would probably feel bad saying something mean about a fly or a mosquito. “But you’re allowed to be annoyed and rant to your friends. I don’t know how your colleagues in your department are, but I’m sure there’s at least a couple of them you’re close to, right?” 

Seonghwa smiles, and it’s so… sad, and it’s worse that his lips tremble ever so slightly, because it means he’s still forcing himself. “Not… particularly? They’re nice, but I don’t like complaining when it just makes other people feel bad.” 

“I...okay, valid,” Hongjoong says. “But stop that.” 

“Stop what?” 

“Smiling when you don’t feel like it,” Hongjoong says, irritated. If Seonghwa’s going to push his way into practically every moment of Hongjoong’s free time at work, he should drop all the superficial formalities, too, because Hongjoong hates tip toeing on eggshells when he can just stomp on them, atmosphere be damned. He can be the one person Seonghwa acts miserable in front of if he needs to, since everyone else might be too starry eyed to handle a Seonghwa who isn’t behaving as they expect. “You don’t need to do that in front of me.” 

“Fake it ‘til you make it,” Seonghwa jokes, and Hongjoong rolls his eyes. “I can’t really help smiling when I see you, though?” 

“Don’t do the flirty thing either,” Hongjoong says. Seonghwa at least has the decency to look sheepish, but it’s clear that he’s feeling a little better. “I won’t be fooled by your sneaky ways, but some poor new girl in sales is going to get her heart broken when she realizes you’re just messing around with her.” 

“You’re so caring~” Seonghwa says, making his voice go nasally on purpose. “Icy kitty Hongjoong cares about a stranger getting their heart broken?” 

“Shut up before I drag you to the stairs and push you down them,” Hongjoong says, and Seonghwa holds up his hands in surrender. 

“I really do mean it when I say that I smile more around you,” Seonghwa says. There’s gratitude and...fondness in his eyes, and Hongjoong regrets looking at him because he doesn’t know what to do with those emotions when they’re coming from Seonghwa, who’s supposed to be the guy that Hongjoong wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole. Instead, Seonghwa’s quickly becoming someone Hongjoong sees more and more, and he’s made Hongjoong’s black, icy heart melt more than once, and Hongjoong doesn’t like the warmth that floods his chest whenever Seonghwa gives him a smug smile. 

“Why would you do something silly like that?” 

“Maybe because seeing you makes me want to put you in my pocket?” Seonghwa says playfully, in a singsong voice, but he cries out when Hongjoong pinches him in the arm. 

“Shouldn’t have worried about you,” Hongjoong says. “You’re doing just fine if you’re able to joke around like this.” 

“You were worried about me?” Seonghwa says it so hopefully, like he hadn’t ever imagined it possible for Hongjoong to show anything other than mild distaste for him, and Hongjoong just nods the tiniest nod possible, so that he only feels minimally miserable by admitting he was something as silly as _concerned_ about Seonghwa. 

This is the worst decision Hongjoong has ever made, to care about someone else’s emotional wellbeing. Even more horrific is the fact that he’s revealed how much he cares. Seonghwa’s going to run rampant and camp out in the animation department for the rest of Hongjoong’s career at KQ, might even follow Hongjoong to his new office just to get in his daily dose of being an annoyance if Hongjoong ever changes companies. 

Seonghwa is smiling at Hongjoong, not sad at all, this time, and Hongjoong resists the urge to shove him. 

“Stop looking at me,” he says, turning away from Seonghwa to start heading for the door that opens to the staircase. “I’m going back inside.” 

“You’re bossy when you’re embarrassed,” Seonghwa points out, following closely behind him so that they can walk on the stairs together, and Hongjoong ignores him even as Seonghwa holds onto the back of his jacket to make sure Hongjoong doesn’t fall. 

✩ ✩ ✩

Sundays are what Hongjoong calls Feed an Animator Days, more simply known as his designated days of the week for running errands and buying groceries. 

It’s a quarter past noon when he finally rolls out of bed, hair a half-greasy mess and his necklace pendant hanging off the back of his neck because of the way he’d fallen asleep. 

His phone screen lights up with a greeting message from Mars, who has somehow eerily memorized Hongjoong’s sleeping schedule. _Good morning, Blue._

_morning??? u rly do have a radar for when i wake up,_ Hongjoong replies. 

_Perhaps~~ You’re going to get groceries, right? Now that you’ve escaped your warm toasty blankets~ I have to get a few things, too._

Hongjoong does a double take at the message, since he’s barely woken up and Mars already knows what his plans for the day (or the next two hours) are going to be. 

_ur going to make me question my whole life, mars. have i always been that boring for u to be able to predict what im about to do?_

_You’re not boring!!!!! I would call it being reliable. :)_

_so... i’m boring. ur euphemisms won’t fool me, mars. Im gonna drive up to the grocery store with tears in my eyes_

_Nooooooooooooooooooooo Blue pls,_ Mars sends immediately, along with four rows of various heart stickers, and Hongjoong laughs before making his way to the bathroom to wash his face. 

Hongjoong throws on an oversized hoodie, with a hood large enough to cover the mop that is his hair and sleeves that have been worn so thin some threads and bits are coming loose, not bothering to change out of his sleep shorts. 

He doesn’t think too hard about it. There’s never anyone important to see anyway, just whoever’s at the checkout and a few concerned middle-aged onlookers, maybe, and he’s a firm believer of the idea that no one pays as much attention as you do to yourself, which means absolutely _no one_ is going to care about how he’s dressed. 

So he grabs his keys and wallet and phone, sliding them into his pockets as he stomps his way into his poor, ratty sneakers, and heads off. 

✩ ✩ ✩

What Hongjoong forgets constantly, like a fool, is that fate has always been out to get him. 

Combined with his general aura of _leave me alone,_ Hongjoong’s walking speed is fast enough for most soliciting strangers to leave him alone and most store employees to figure out he doesn’t require any assistance unless he asks for it. Walking fast _also_ means that there’s zero chance of anyone knowing it’s him in the giant hoodie unless they’re his mom, or something, and his mom lives too far up north to be casually recognizing Hongjoong in a grocery store. 

That’s why, when Hongjoong hears his name from behind him as he’s browsing the turkey bacon area and _recognizes the voice_ , he freezes. 

It’s not a voice he’s supposed to hear on a Sunday, but alas. The stars have aligned just so perfectly that Hongjoong doesn’t get to catch a break. 

He has to turn more because having his hood on affects his peripheral vision, and he blinks slowly at Seonghwa while Seonghwa quickly closes the distance between them once he realizes it really is Hongjoong. 

“Hongjoong~” Seonghwa says, sweetly. “Didn’t think I’d get to see you on a Sunday.” 

“How lovely,” Hongjoong replies. 

Seonghwa isn’t made up to his usual degree, hair unstyled and flopping down straight into his eyes, dressed in a plain white t-shirt and black jeans and black Vans. 

It makes perfect sense that despite being in pathetically basic casual wear and practically _not trying_ , Seonghwa manages to radiate pure sunlight out of every pore in his body as he all but directs that wattage at Hongjoong with his trademark boxy grin and bright, clear eyes. 

“You look a lot more intimidating in the clothes that you wear to work,” Seonghwa says. 

Hongjoong’s individual brain cells are all so infuriated that he’s surprised at himself for being able to reply. “I’m still feisty enough to hurt you, even if the clothes don’t look like it,” he says, and Seonghwa laughs. 

“I know,” Seonghwa says. “I’ve known you long enough to be careful, but…” he scrunches his nose playfully, which means Hongjoong is about to hear something even worse from him, “you look adorable like this.” 

“I can’t speak to you, it’s not working hours,” Hongjoong says mechanically, dropping a pack of turkey bacon into his basket and walking away, knowing that it’ll be futile because Seonghwa will inevitably follow him. 

“Come back, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa says, and catches up easily with his longer legs. “Let’s grocery shop together~” 

“I’m going to hit you if you keep on talking with that cutesy tone of voice,” Hongjoong says, and Seonghwa pouts at him. “Sundays are my no human interaction day.” 

“What about the person who’s going to check out your groceries for you, or the person who’s going to bag your stuff?” Seonghwa asks. 

“I mean no interaction with humans that I personally know,” Hongjoong says, and makes a shooing motion at Seonghwa. “So skidaddle.” It doesn’t carry with as much conviction as he had initially hoped, and Seonghwa seems to catch the lack of threat in his words instantly. 

“Not even your favorite colleague?” Seonghwa asks. 

“We’re not even in the same department,” Hongjoong says. “Unless there was a transfer I didn’t know about? I haven’t seen your animation reel yet, so you’ll need to wait for a while.” 

“Semantics.” Seonghwa shrugs, before crowding into Hongjoong’s space so that Hongjoong nearly lands face first into Seonghwa’s shoulder and has to slow down in order to avoid collision. “Sorry about that. I was thinking of getting yogurt, so I stopped you.” 

“Look at yogurt by _yourself_ ,” Hongjoong hisses, and Seonghwa shakes his head. 

“Errands are better with company,” he says. 

“Depends on what _kind_ of company,” Hongjoong mutters, but Seonghwa is already tugging at him so they can keep moving. 

“I like the nail polish, by the way,” Seonghwa says. He’s leaning down a little so that he can talk to Hongjoong without being too loud, putting them in close enough proximity that Hongjoong can smell his cologne, and Hongjoong… has no thoughts. None. “You usually take it off for work?” 

Hongjoong had tested out a few colors last night after a trip to the gym, a particularly selective wave of boredom taking over him once he’d finished his dinner and discovered he wasn’t in a mood to watch any of his usual television shows. “Yeah,” Hongjoong says, before remembering Seonghwa had complimented him. “Thank you?”

“You sound unsure of that,” Seonghwa says, chuckling.

“It caught me off guard,” Hongjoong says. “Since there’s no one around, and you’re not obligated to be extra nice and agreeable during the weekend.” 

“I’m not trying to be nice or anything,” Seonghwa says. “I’ve told you that before. I’m just honest.” 

Hongjoong finally puts his finger on what it is about Seonghwa that had made him so wary to begin with. Seonghwa tends to look at people straight in the eyes the whole time he’s speaking to them, _really_ look at them, and it makes whoever he’s talking to feel like they’re the only person to exist in the world. The only reason Hongjoong doesn’t fall for it faster is because he’s used to people doing and saying things they don’t mean, but it’s becoming increasingly difficult to be skeptical of Seonghwa when he’s so good at looking like he cares. 

“Does it cause a lot of misunderstandings?” he asks Seonghwa. 

“Does what cause misunderstandings?” 

“You being so positive towards everyone,” Hongjoong says. “You tend to make other people feel good about themselves since you’re always praising them, but I imagine it causes people to think they mean something to you when they don’t.” His hood falls, and Seonghwa pulls it back up so that it’s resting nicely on Hongjoong’s head. 

“If I have something nice to say, I want to say it.” Seonghwa shrugs. “I think everyone, for the most part, deserves all the kindness they can get because you never know how they feel about themselves on the inside.”

He looks a little… sad? And Hongjoong is reminded of their conversation from a few days ago, reminded of the curved, tired silhouette of a solitary Seonghwa out on the rooftop, with the thoughts that he never shares with anyone else except maybe the friend he wears a ring for. That man is such a stark contrast to the bright, smiley Seonghwa everyone else sees at work, the Seonghwa who recommends humorous self-help books and talks a lot while hardly revealing anything about himself. 

“Sorry, did I go a little too deep?” Seonghwa says, with a nervous laugh, when Hongjoong doesn’t say anything back for a few seconds. 

“No,” Hongjoong says slowly. “You’re so… kind. I used to think the whole overexcited puppy thing was just an act, but I’m starting to realize it’s just who you are.” 

“I’m not that complicated of a person,” Seonghwa says. “I like succeeding at work, making people happy, and running into my favorite colleague at the grocery store on a Sunday afternoon.” 

“I can’t say the same, unfortunately,” Hongjoong says, “since I don’t go out of my way to care about other people, and I like being left alone on Sundays.” 

Seonghwa grins at him. “Come hang out at my place,” he says, like Hongjoong hasn’t _just_ said he likes spending Sundays on his own. In one ear, out the other. Why does Hongjoong even bother? “I’ll make you dinner. Or a late lunch. Or a linner. Dunch?” 

Hongjoong snorts. “I think I’m good—” he starts, but Seonghwa interrupts before he can finish turning the invitation down. 

“I always make too much for one person,” Seonghwa says. “And it’s nice to share food when it’s freshly made, right? When was the last time you had a homemade meal, Hongjoong? All you have to do is sit there and talk to me while I make something to feed you~” He is so _pushy,_ and it scrambles up all the meticulously placed logic in Hongjoong’s brain. 

“Is this how you make friends?” Hongjoong squints. “By basically herding them in circles until they have no choice but to do as you ask?” 

“That depends,” Seonghwa says. “Did it work with you?” 

Hongjoong purses his lips, choosing not to answer the question. He kind of… knows, already, but he also doesn’t feel like Seonghwa deserves that sort of satisfaction just yet. “What are you making for dinner?” 

Seonghwa holds up a peace sign, grinning because he knows Hongjoong’s resolve to reject him is slowly being whittled down. “Beef stew.” 

“Oh.” 

This is horrible. Hongjoong _loves_ beef stew. 

“With caramelized carrots~” Seonghwa says. “And noodles. And Thai chicken salad if you want.” 

“You’re doing this on purpose,” Hongjoong says. “How did you know I like both of those dishes?” 

“Because I understand your heart,” Seonghwa says, honey sweet, and Hongjoong swings his shopping basket at him (while making sure Seonghwa isn’t actually within hitting range). “Yeosang told me.” 

“I’mma break his legs,” Hongjoong says. This is proof that Yeosang likes Seonghwa better, otherwise he would actually use his brain and think about protecting Hongjoong’s personal information instead of giving Hongjoong’s likes and dislikes out like advertisement flyers. “He’s exposing all my secrets.” 

“My friend likes beef stew, too,” Seonghwa says, changing the subject. He looks at his ring fondly, and Hongjoong feels a little… envious, that Seonghwa will always place that one person above everyone else, even though Hongjoong has Mars, even though Hongjoong’s only really been in Seonghwa’s life as long as Seonghwa’s worked at KQ. 

“The soulmate?” Hongjoong asks. “Or another one?” 

“Yeah, the… soulmate,” Seonghwa says, scratching at the back of his neck. 

“Are they going to be at dinner?” Hongjoong asks, curious. He’s usually against invitations extended out of convenience because the more, _not_ the merrier, but he’ll take the loss if it means he gets to see the person Seonghwa likes so much. Seonghwa has been rather tight lipped about anything other than his special person _being_ his special person, not that Hongjoong has pushed for more information after that initial conversation. 

Seonghwa’s eyes widen. “No! They...no.” He shifts his weight to the other hip, cracking his knuckles with just one hand. “Why would you ask that?” 

“No need to get all worked up,” Hongjoong says. “I just thought you might have invited me to a group thing. Seems a little suspicious for you to run into me on the weekend and then offer me dinner instantly.” 

“Oh,” Seonghwa says, relaxing. “It’s a coincidence, I promise. I was already planning on making dinner and maybe offering leftovers to my neighbors before I saw you. Group things are fun, but this is a only-you invitation!” 

Hongjoong’s heart is icy by default, but Seonghwa’s harmless reply makes it start to thaw against Hongjoong’s will, and Hongjoong doesn’t say anything as he walks a few steps ahead of Seonghwa, reminding himself that he’s too old to be feeling like a teenager again with crushes on boys he’s not allowed to reach for. 

✩ ✩ ✩

The stew is _delicious_. 

Hongjoong should be annoyed that Seonghwa is tall, handsome, smart, and good at cooking to top it all off, but he’s too full of beef and carrots to be in a fighting mood. He’s sitting at the table with nothing to do, because Seonghwa has banned Hongjoong from helping with dishes or entering the kitchen area at all since he’s a _guest_ , so he checks for any new messages from Mars. 

The weird thing is, there aren’t any. Mars isn’t usually too busy on Sundays, since Sunday is the one day of the week he replies to messages nearly as quickly as Hongjoong does. Hongjoong shrugs it off, because he’s an adult and he’s not going to despair over Mars being MIA for a few hours. 

✩ ✩ ✩

_Sorry for the lack of replying yesterday,_ Mars sends the next day. _I was having dinner with the coworker I’ve been telling you about._

Interesting. Mars has been doing so many things in sync with Hongjoong lately that he wonders if they’re just living variations of the same life, though he quickly laughs that thought away. Mars is probably the most positive person in the world and likes to _clean,_ while Hongjoong jumps to the worst case scenario every time his anxiety gets the better of him and avoids cleaning unless he absolutely has to. 

_that’s fine;; was it fun?_ he replies. 

_Yes, very. I cooked and they liked it._

_the amt of talent in ur hands is truly astounding,_ Hongjoong sends back, along with: _did u take pictures??? : >_

There’s a weird knot in his stomach, and he doesn’t realize until later, when he’s making a cup of tea for himself and looking at his sparsely stocked fridge for dinner options (there aren’t many), that the knot is one of _jealousy_ , because Mars was making dinner for someone else when Hongjoong is the one who loves him. 

But that really is childish of him, when Hongjoong had been eating dinner made by Seonghwa last night. Mars deserves to be happy even if Hongjoong isn’t there to witness it, and so, Hongjoong boxes in all the petulant thoughts in his head until his mind is clear, hoping that his heart will get the memo and do the same. 

✩ ✩ ✩

Hongjoong doesn’t really know how he and Seonghwa end up so close until it’s already happened, and he’s just staring at the aftermath of a friendship with a man he would have never have expected to exchange anything more than formalities with. 

One day, he’s still holding Seonghwa at arm’s length, because he needs _space_ and Seonghwa can be so bad at giving it any time he thinks Hongjoong’s tolerance for his antics goes up, and the next, Seonghwa is sprawled out on Hongjoong’s living room floor, carefully turning pages through art process books Hongjoong has collected over the years while Hongjoong scrolls through his unread messages with his feet propped up on the couch. 

Despite the noise and puppy personality and blinding brightness of Seonghwa’s overflowing enthusiasm for Hongjoong, their friendship is… easy. Low maintenance, in all the right ways. With anyone else, Hongjoong would probably box his personality in so that the other party wouldn’t have their illusion of him shattered, but perhaps it was his lack of regard for Seonghwa’s general presence that eventually pulled them so close, because Hongjoong doesn’t have to pretend to be someone else in order for Seonghwa to like him. 

After their Thai delivery arrives and they’ve eaten until they’re mostly full, Hongjoong puts the remainder of the food away in the fridge, packing Seonghwa’s leftovers in a separate plastic bag so that Seonghwa won’t have to do it later when he goes home. 

Seonghwa looks through Hongjoong’s nail polish collection and cleans the dust off the bottles that haven’t been used in a while, rearranging them by color and finish until the colors between each bottle blend and transition effortlessly in a muted down version of a rainbow. He lingers on a shimmery shade of taupe, picking up the bottle enough times that Hongjoong can’t really hold back from offering to paint Seonghwa’s nails for him. 

“Do you want to try that color?” 

He expects Seonghwa to be embarrassed and brush off his interest as just curiosity, but Seonghwa gives him a shy smile and asks, “Can I?” 

(The more Hongjoong gets to know Seonghwa, the more he realizes Seonghwa is nothing like he’d expected or assumed. It makes him feel guilty for being so snippy with Seonghwa whenever he’s not in the most patient mood, as Seonghwa never does anything out of ill will and mostly just wants to cheer people up.) 

“You can,” Hongjoong says. “Do you want me to paint them for you?” 

“Yes, please,” Seonghwa says, cutely, and Hongjoong’s stomach flips. “I imagine you would do a much better job than someone who has never touched a nail polish brush in their life.” 

“I’ve painted my nails once or twice.” Hongjoong blink-winks at Seonghwa, except he doesn’t even try to isolate the action to one eye because he knows he’ll look stupid trying, and that makes Seonghwa laugh. 

“Did you just blink on purpose?” 

“I call it a double wink,” is Hongjoong’s explanation, before he runs off to get the rest of his nail supplies. 

Seonghwa’s nails are just like him: neat and orderly and immaculate for someone who doesn’t do much to them. None of his nails have a very strong C-curve, which will make it easy to avoid flooding Seonghwa’s cuticles with product, and his cuticles are smooth and clean with few jagged lines, leaving Hongjoong with little to do in terms of preparation for the nail polish application. 

He’d feel weird about being in such close proximity with anyone else’s hands, but for some reason, Seonghwa’s hands don’t bother him, although the smoothness of them does make him slightly self-conscious about how dry his own are thanks to his avoidance of hand cream and moisturizer in general. He has his mom to blame for that, who used to slather so much lotion on little six year old Hongjoong’s face that he thought he was going to slip and slide everywhere as soon as he stepped outside to walk to school. 

Hongjoong barely holds back a flinch when he takes Seonghwa’s hand to start applying the polish. “Your hands are cold. Do you need me to turn the heater up?” 

“It’s fine,” Seonghwa says. He looks like he’s going to say something stupid, and Hongjoong raises his eyebrow in warning for Seonghwa _not_ to, but Seonghwa doesn’t listen. “I have yours to warm me up, after all~” 

Coughing in embarrassment, Hongjoong focuses his attention on making sure every coat on each nail is thin and smooth. “Don’t flirt with me in my own home.” 

“Sorry~” Seonghwa says, not sounding even a bit apologetic. “How come you don’t have any of your artwork hanging on the walls?” 

“I don’t really do traditional illustrations or anything,” Hongjoong says. “Not everyone who goes to art school is good at that, as ridiculous as it sounds. Yeosang and I were okay at basic designing, decent at figure drawing, but we weren’t very strong when it came to visual development.” 

He’d spent the first two years drawing a lot because he was required to take so many foundational courses for animation, and he’d considering specializing in character design, but by the third year his interest in physically drawing stuff had thinned out and he’d wanted to make stuff _move_. He was fascinated by translation and rotation curves on the graph editors and knowing that they correlated to how character rigs could move mathematically. It also frustrated and amazed Hongjoong simultaneously just how much thoughtful detail was required to make a character go from robotic to really _alive._

“Really?” Seonghwa asks. “Why is visual development different?” 

“Visual development looks like something any artist or student can handle, because it’s just like, making lines and coloring in stuff if you really dumb it down,” Hongjoong says. A little bit of nail polish gets onto Seonghwa’s skin, and Hongjoong uses the edge of his thumb nail to wipe it off before it dries. “But it requires you to be super solid in your drawing principles, like perspective and color theory, and you need an eye for what visually looks good even if you can’t necessarily verbalize that thought process. Some people have years of drawing mileage and they can whip out a concept painting in like, half an hour, of better quality than a painting that takes someone else a week straight to barely finish.” 

“I see. That makes a lot of sense,” Seonghwa says. He uses his free hand to brush Hongjoong’s bangs out of his eyes, and Hongjoong smiles at him in thanks. “But you used to draw more, right?” 

“Yeah,” Hongjoong replies, before remembering that he hasn’t ever discussed his art with Seonghwa other than the animation he does at work. “Wait, how do you know that?” 

Seonghwa’s imaginary tail stops wagging. It would be fun to watch, except that he looks like he’s been caught doing something wrong, and that doesn’t correspond with their conversation when he’s only been asking Hongjoong well-meaning questions. “Ah...” he says, casting about for words, as Hongjoong moves on to Seonghwa’s other hand. 

Seonghwa’s hands, Hongjoong can confirm, are almost as good-looking as the rest of him. “Why, what’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” Seonghwa says, composure starting to return. “It was a lucky guess?” Hongjoong glances at him, unconvinced but not particularly interested in pursuing the topic further, and Seonghwa adds, “I might have mixed you up with someone else?” 

“I see how it is,” Hongjoong says, with a melodramatic sigh that’s realistic enough to pass as a genuine one, and he can feel Seonghwa tense up because their hands are touching. “I’m just one acquaintance out of your many, many friends, Seonghwa. That’s fine.” 

“No!” Seonghwa protests, face clouding over with panic. “You are very important to me and I just happened to make a mistake!” 

“Sure,” Hongjoong says. 

“I think it’s also because I’ve seen your portfolio in KQ’s files,” Seonghwa says, and Hongjoong watches the entertainment of Seonghwa’s frantic justifications unfold in front of him. “It’s not that I was snooping, or anything, but it was just there when I was checking something else, and—” 

“It’s okay,” Hongjoong interrupts, and Seonghwa finally relaxes a little. “You don’t have to explain yourself. I was just messing with you.” 

“Don’t do that,” Seonghwa says. 

“Can’t promise anything,” Hongjoong responds, and Seonghwa just sticks his bottom lip out at him as he waits for Hongjoong to finish painting his nails. 

“Wow~” Seonghwa coos, after Hongjoong’s checked that the topcoat on Seonghwa’s nails is dry and allows him to start moving around. “So pretty.” 

“It suits you,” Hongjoong says, screwing the caps of the polish bottles fully closed now that he no longer needs them, and sets the bottles aside. 

Beaming, Seonghwa holds out his hands, straightening his fingers to admire Hongjoong’s work. 

Hongjoong asks, “It makes you that happy?” 

“You complimented me,” Seonghwa says. 

“You get compliments all the time,” Hongjoong says. “Your nail polish suiting you isn’t the most remarkable thing you’ve ever heard, is it? If so, everyone else is doing a shit job.” 

“But it’s a compliment from you,” Seonghwa says, with a small smile. His mouth is shiny from lip balm and maybe remnants of pad thai, but his smile reaches his eyes more and more, these days. Although Seonghwa’s always good looking no matter what he’s doing or saying, Hongjoong thinks Seonghwa’s real charm only reveals itself when he smiles wide and bright like this, a little childish and all soft at the edges. 

Before he can control it, Hongjoong’s heart goes warm and fuzzy in the way that he’s starting to realize is closely associated with Seonghwa, but he ignores the nervous clench of his brain trying to figure out what that means for himself and tells Seonghwa to stop saying gross things. 

✩ ✩ ✩

When Hongjoong goes to bed that night, he realizes that Seonghwa’s hands had looked...familiar. Considering how much time they spend together outside of work, whether it’s eating at Chinese restaurants or watching movies in Seonghwa’s apartment or doing Costco runs together, it’s not that weird, but Hongjoong feels like he’s known those hands long before Seonghwa barged into his personal life. 

He’s not the type to linger over things that don’t really matter, though, so only a few minutes pass before he’s already dozing off, thoughts of _deja vu_ and golden olive hands tossed into the abyss of all his other right-before-sleep ponderings. 

✩ ✩ ✩

Mars sends less messages now. 

Or maybe it’s that Hongjoong is the one sending less messages, because Mars usually just goes along with whatever Hongjoong is talking about. It’s not that he means to do it intentionally, but Mars mentions his prickly, icy coworker more frequently than Hongjoong would like, and some selfish, horrible part of Hongjoong subconsciously wants to punish Mars for getting close to someone else, when Hongjoong is supposed to be first in his heart. 

There’d been several instances where Hongjoong had been by himself, either at home or outside doing something, wanting to share something like a random thought or funny animal picture, and he’d hesitated over whether to send it to Seonghwa or Mars. Seonghwa had won every time, because he always replies right away, and sometimes Mars doesn’t respond to messages until late at night when Hongjoong is about to fall asleep. 

Perhaps Hongjoong has always been the one who cares more. It’s possible that Mars has simply been going along with Hongjoong’s whims out of obligation and politeness, even if he still sends good night and good morning messages and soft reminders for Hongjoong to not overwork himself. 

Hongjoong knows it’s irrational to feel this way when he has a life outside of Mars, too, has Seonghwa to bicker and talk shit with on the rooftop where nobody can bother them, has friends like Yeosang who have been in his physical and emotional space for years longer than Mars has. But Mars never really expanded on the details of his personal life until something changed, and that something had been him meeting the coworker he likes so damn _much_ , and suddenly Hongjoong doesn’t want to know any more about the life Mars lives outside of Blue because it means that they’re perfectly capable of growing apart from each other. 

Hongjoong is in bed, tapping absentmindedly through Instagram stories around midnight when he gets a notification from Mars. 

_You’ve been busy, lately? I miss you, Blue._

_Do you?_ Hongjoong thinks, but doesn’t send, and he puts his phone away, snuggling up under the covers of his lopsided comforter as he tries to fall asleep. 

✩ ✩ ✩

Emotional landmines are out to ruin Hongjoong’s neutrally, vaguely good time on Earth.

He’s drinking a pick-me-up coffee in the break room, listening to Seonghwa chatter away about earlier events in the workday as he tries to fight off the afternoon grogginess that has him dozing off in his office sometimes. Maybe that’s what it is, a combination of Hongjoong’s growing fatigue and Seonghwa’s easy going nature about everything that makes Hongjoong go a little too honest, a little too caustic. 

“Then again, someone with a face like yours wouldn’t have to work very hard to close a deal with a client,” Hongjoong says offhandedly, and Seonghwa doesn’t reply immediately.

Hongjoong doesn’t think much of it at first. Seonghwa’s not as quick with words as Hongjoong is, so he’ll sometimes pause for a moment to decide on a careful retort before he says anything out loud. 

But then the silence stretches uncomfortably long, and Hongjoong looks up from his coffee to find that Seonghwa has shut down entirely, face tight with an emotion Hongjoong has never seen on him.

“Seonghwa?” Hongjoong asks, completely bewildered at the reaction because Seonghwa never gets visibly upset by anything, at least not from what Hongjoong’s seen of him at work.

“I know that you don’t mean it in a bad way,” Seonghwa says, voice thin. He’s looking down at the ground, fingers clasped tightly together. “But you can be unintentionally cruel when you say those kind of things.”

Hongjoong’s stomach twists, because he’s poked at a wound that seems to be always open for Seonghwa, except he doesn’t know what exactly that wound is or how he can close it so that Seonghwa stops looking so miserable.

“I know I have an advantage because of the way I look,” Seonghwa says. “I know people will give me things not because I deserve them, but because they’re basing everything off of my appearance.”

“I’m sorry,” Hongjoong says, and means it. He hadn’t really expected that Seonghwa would be so painfully self-aware, especially of the fact that he was possibly handed easier opportunities to success even if he couldn’t live up to them simply because people liked the way he looked. 

And it’s not even, necessarily, that Hongjoong thinks Seonghwa is too stupid or naïve to realize how the world works since Seonghwa is objectively, _incredibly_ smart. It’s just that Hongjoong hadn’t thought that far ahead, and he’s taken Seonghwa’s tolerance towards everything else for granted by letting his own prejudice rear its ugly, sharp head in the form of words he can’t take back.

“But it doesn’t mean I don’t try my very best on everything,” Seonghwa says, “because I want people to see that I am worth trusting, that I am capable, even if they think I’ve gotten everything easily.”

His voice is… shaky, and Hongjoong is about two seconds away from burying himself deep into the ground because he’s done Seonghwa horribly wrong.

There have been a lot of conversations involving Seonghwa Hongjoong overhears on the occasion that he leaves his office, to run administrative errands or reach out to other departments or simply take a break. Unsurprisingly, most of the remarks are backhanded compliments from sales employees who aren’t so fond of Park Seonghwa’s impeccable work ethic and supposed luck in client base: that he’s good at his job even if he only “got hired because he was pretty,” that he can probably get away with all sorts of things just because of his face, that he lectures the teams he manages too much for someone so young.

And if he’s not reading too deeply into the implications of Seonghwa’s words, Hongjoong thinks Seonghwa has overheard those conversations, too, and probably even worse.

“But I hoped that you, at the very least,” Seonghwa says, and Hongjoong braces himself, “would be the one person in this company who sees me for who I am and what I’ve done rather than the facial features I was born with. I’m okay with everyone else that says bad stuff about me, but I… thought you knew and saw my personality before everything else. That’s how you are with everyone else, right?”

Great. Hongjoong thought he couldn’t feel any worse, but he’s _wrong,_ because his heart feels like it’s going to tear in half. Seonghwa has always trusted Hongjoong to see him for who he is beyond his looks and his surface personality, and Hongjoong has stomped all over that trust without a second thought. 

“That’s…”

“I’m sorry,” Seonghwa says, running his hand through his hair before forcing his voice back to its cheery default pitch, though the smile he forces on his face can’t quite catch up. The expression is a familiar one, when Hongjoong forces himself to look, and he knows how many times he’s seen Seonghwa pretend to be okay when in reality he’s hurt, but this time the root cause of that pain is Hongjoong. “I’ve turned the atmosphere bad, haven’t I?”

“No, Seonghwa,” Hongjoong says, quickly. “I was insensitive. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Seonghwa says. His eyes are beautiful, the line of his upper eyelids creating a perfect silhouette no matter what angle he turns his head, adorned with long, thick lashes, but there is no brightness in them. “You can pretend I didn’t say anything. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable around me because of a small misunderstanding.”

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong says. “I—” 

“I think I have to get back to work. Someone’s been asking me to meet with them since earlier this morning,” Seonghwa says, even though his phone hasn’t buzzed once and he hasn’t pulled it out of his pocket to check his notifications this whole time, either. “So I can’t chit chat with you any longer, I’m afraid.”

He reaches up like he’s going to pat Hongjoong on the shoulder, a gesture he usually does whenever Hongjoong’s at the verge of telling Seonghwa to get out of his office jokingly, but Seonghwa lets his hand fall back to his side, and Hongjoong feels like he’s been burned even though they haven’t touched at all. 

Mind still an entanglement of conflicting, confusing thoughts, Hongjoong doesn’t have it in him to stop Seonghwa from leaving because he’s still scrambling for the right words to take back all the hurt he’s given a friend he’s supposed to _care_ for, not betray. 

“Okay,” Hongjoong says numbly, because Seonghwa probably doesn’t have the patience or the emotional capacity to listen to Hongjoong’s rambling overtures to a long winded apology, and Hongjoong is left with an odd, sour feeling in his stomach as he watches Seonghwa’s back get further and further away from him. 

✩ ✩ ✩


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

✩ ✩ ✩

Hongjoong is not friendly. He avoids small talk as much as possible, and only really offers people a brief smile as a passing greeting, even if they look like they might want to have a conversation with him. In his opinion, it’s more important to make sure he’s doing his work and helping people when they ask for it rather than to worry about socializing with every other employee he comes across. 

That being said, he’s not ever intentionally malicious, and the joke-gone-wrong with Seonghwa remains in the back of his mind all day despite him furiously trying to forget about it. Hongjoong had been distracted, and tired, and _stupid_ , letting old silly assumptions rise up to his throat and roll off of his tongue without even using his brain to consider whether it would be something that was productive to say. 

Despite how differently they’re viewed as people, Seonghwa has never done anything to hurt Hongjoong, always offering sweet replies to Hongjoong’s snide remarks and only lashing out to give Hongjoong a fraction of a taste of his own medicine if Hongjoong takes the bullying a little too far. He does his best to be kind to everyone even if they hurt him, and Hongjoong had been cruel to Seonghwa without even being provoked, when he’s supposed to be the _one_ person Seonghwa feels safe with, but he’s gone and ruined that with just a few words. Brilliant. 

The guilt eats at him like a slow, painful ache. Hongjoong has the sort of personality that makes it easy for him to handle criticism and initiate direct confrontation when it’s in a professional setting, but the tactfulness of his conversational skills pretty much disappears as soon as open discussion of emotions and feelings are involved. He remembers never really knowing how to react to classmates when they burst into tears back in school under intense pressure that was characteristic of their schedules, never really knowing how to give people the proper sort of attention and comfort they needed when he’d always preferred to isolate himself in the times that he was upset. 

_I hurt someone’s feelings,_ Hongjoong tells Mars in the evening, when he’s finally home from work and curled up on his couch, socks tossed onto the ground and jacket tossed carelessly next to him. _Badly. And I don’t know how to let them know I’m truly sorry. I apologized, but I don’t think it helped anything._

 _I’m sure they understood your intentions. After all, you’re the sweetest person I know_ , Mars replies only three minutes after Hongjoong sends out his call for help. Such words would usually make Hongjoong feel warm inside, because he knows he can be extremely kind when he wants to be, but they strike him like an arrow to the heart because Mars has never seen the meaner side of Hongjoong. Blue may be lovable, because he says things Hongjoong never says out loud to anyone else, believes in love and validation and emotional support, while Hongjoong can’t even protect the one person who had trusted him the most in real life. 

_Am I?_

_Yes,_ Mars sends. _You are not reduced to the mistakes you make. It depends on how you react, and the decisions you make afterward._

Hongjoong knows Mars is right, but it’s hard to think at all when he just keeps remembering how quickly Seonghwa had shut down, all the light disappearing from his eyes because of careless words coming from Hongjoong’s mouth. 

He hadn’t initially intended on giving any more detail about what he’d said to hurt Seonghwa when it makes him feel ashamed just to remember it, but he thinks Mars would understand. Mars is always wise if not forgiving, and Hongjoong feels at such a loss for what to do that he needs someone, especially someone like Mars, to tell him how he can take back all the hurt he’s inflicted on Seonghwa. 

_I’ve always been a little skeptical of good-looking people,_ he types. _Of their achievements, how much of it is them and how much of it is just them being pretty and getting rewarded for that._

_Does this have to do with your friend?_

_Yes._ Hongjoong sighs. _He was telling me about a deal he was able to close at work, and I said the worst thing._

_...What did you say?_

_That someone with a face like his wouldn’t have to work very hard for that._

Mars doesn’t start typing, so Hongjoong continues talking. He wants… he needs to explain himself because he doesn’t want to lose Mars because of this, too, and there’s no way for Mars to see how wracked with guilt and self-hatred Hongjoong is when they’ve only got words on screens to communicate with. 

_I’m not trying to make excuses, but I… I’m telling you because I really want to make it up to him. I was tired and stupid and prejudiced, and I know how hard he works everyday to show his best self, I knew that since the beginning because I would see him de-stress out on the rooftop of our building and then go right back to smiling at all the idiots in our meetings, so there’s no fucking reason why I had to go and say something like that just because I was a little salty that good looking people sometimes have it easier. I shouldn’t have invalidated everything he’s done to get to where he is, but he shut down so fast on me that I couldn’t make him stay, and I would have messed it up again somehow if I really tried to explain myself._

Mars usually starts typing a reply as soon as he sees that Hongjoong has stopped, but a minute passes with nothing. 

Ten minutes. Half an hour. Forty-five minutes. The imaginary lump in Hongjoong’s throat wells up until it’s hard to even breathe, and he just hopes that Mars is occupied with something else and has missed the notification because of some noise in his own apartment, prays that the silence isn’t because Mars has already read the message and decided he doesn’t want to talk to Hongjoong ever again. 

_Mars?_ Hongjoong types, and hits send. 

_Sorry. I was… busy, but I’m here now,_ Mars replies. Hongjoong bites his lip as he waits for everything else Mars is going to say. _Do you want advice on what I think you should do?_

_please_

_Okay. First off, this doesn’t change how I feel about you, Blue. You’re still one of the sweetest people I know, and I love you. Okay?_

_im gonna cry,_ Hongjoong types, barely hitting the right letters because his hands are shaking so badly. As much as he resented Mars for not being around as much because of the rockhead coworker he made dinner for, Hongjoong still wants Mars to keep him, whether it’s what they have now or whatever Mars is willing to give him. _i was scared u were going to stop talking to me_

_Sorry, sorry, it’s all because I replied late. I wouldn’t stop being your friend because of that! And I think that he would understand and forgive you if you just... told him what you told me. I’m sure he trusts you and that’s why he became friends with you in the first place, so he would probably be willing to hear the reasons for why you messed up. Be fully honest and transparent, and the rest should work itself out._

_that makes sense._ Hongjoong feels better already, grateful that Mars manages to see the good in him even though Hongjoong’s usual stack of thick armor is a mask for all the insecurities and flaws inside. 

But Mars is not Seonghwa, and Hongjoong can’t expect everyone to be as open-minded towards him as Mars is when he’s never proved himself to be someone worth understanding. Seonghwa had given Hongjoong so many chances, had seen the good in Hongjoong, had extended his hand multiple times even when Hongjoong kept swatting at him with sharpened claws, because he had such strong faith that Hongjoong would eventually be kind without hiding it. 

This time, instead of a slap or a slight scratch, Hongjoong’s drawn blood even though he never meant to, and he’d made Seonghwa, who never, _ever_ snaps, go and do just that. 

_what if he doesn’t forgive me, and i lose him as a friend?_

_You won’t. Trust me,_ Mars says, and as Hongjoong curls up into bed, with no new messages from Seonghwa, he wonders how Mars can be so sure. 

✩ ✩ ✩

The sales department looks nothing like the animation department. 

The walls are white and clean, lights bright enough to make Hongjoong wince as soon as he goes in through the main entrance. All the employees here are dressed much more formally than the employees on the production floors and art departments, and Hongjoong scratches nervously at his knuckles as he tries to remember where Seonghwa’s office is located. 

He wouldn’t have come here if it weren’t for the fact that Seonghwa has steered clear of Hongjoong’s office for several days, in comparison to his usual twice-a-day visits. Even Yunho and Mingi had gotten curious, asking Hongjoong if Seonghwa had gone on a business trip when they couldn’t find the head of sales pestering Hongjoong like usual. 

Seonghwa might not want to see him ever again, Hongjoong is fully aware, but he needs to make at least one solid attempt to apologize so that Seonghwa can understand how much Hongjoong regrets what he’s done, and that what happened between them wasn’t a reflection of Seonghwa’s weakness, but a reflection of Hongjoong’s immaturity. 

“Hongjoong?” a voice says from his right. 

Hongjoong turns towards the sound to find San staring at him. They’ve met a few times because of Seonghwa, although any further knowledge Hongjoong possesses about San is based on whatever Seonghwa tells him (which includes San being one of Seonghwa’s favorites in the sales department). 

“Ah, San,” Hongjoong says, nodding briefly in greeting, and San smiles at him. “Is Seonghwa… busy right now?” 

San tilts his head. He narrows his eyes a little, like he’s considering something, and for the first time, Hongjoong is nervous about what Seonghwa might have told other people about him, since there is a very high chance that San knows all about Hongjoong’s major fuck up and thinks he’s absolute trash. 

Whatever San knows, though, he chooses not to voice and he simply responds, “He shouldn’t be. You can probably just knock before you go in.”

“Thanks,” Hongjoong says, and then San offers him a smile that’s a little knowing, not as confused or innocent as the first one had been. Hongjoong only blinks at him as San does a little wave, preparing to go and resume whatever task he had been in the middle of before he’d spotted a lost-looking Hongjoong. 

“Mhm~” San says. “I’ll be off now, Hongjoong. Have fun talking to my boss!” 

Seonghwa’s office entrance is angled off to the side, so Hongjoong doesn’t really feel self-conscious about waiting at the door and steeling himself to knock. Before he gets a chance to knock, however, Seonghwa just so happens to open the door, and he looks like a deer caught in the headlights even though Hongjoong is the one who lets out an ungraceful yelp. 

“Hongjoong?” Seonghwa says, eyes wide. He looks guarded, but not uncomfortable, which Hongjoong is thankful for. “Why are you here?” 

“Hey,” Hongjoong says, sticking his hands in his pockets. If he keeps them contained, he won’t be tempted to move them too much while he talks through his nervousness. “Are you busy? Do you have time to talk for a bit?” 

Seonghwa bites his lower lip, making brief eye contact with Hongjoong before he’s looking away again. He’s dressed in an all black suit today, and like a traitor, Hongjoong’s eyes wander and settle on the way the fabric of Seonghwa’s slacks hugs his thighs. “Come in.” 

“You sure?” Hongjoong asks, forcing his eyes back up to Seonghwa’s face. “I don’t want to interrupt you if you were busy.” 

“I can spare time,” Seonghwa says, and Hongjoong stares at him doubtfully. “Really.” 

At that final reassurance, Hongjoong steps into Seonghwa’s office as Seonghwa lets the door close behind them. 

“Do you want to sit?” Seonghwa asks. 

“Nah,” Hongjoong says. “I won’t take up too much of your time.” 

Seonghwa leans against his desk with a practiced ease, although that only emphasizes the tightness in his jaw and the constant, nervous readjusting of his arms across his chest as he tries to figure out what to do with his body. 

If it were a few months ago, Hongjoong wouldn’t have thought anything of it, would have pretended not to notice that Seonghwa was restless. Now, all Hongjoong can think about is what he can do to make Seonghwa calm down, whether it’s taking Seonghwa’s hand in his own or hugging Seonghwa to offer some solid weight, and that alone tells Hongjoong more about himself and his feelings towards the man standing in front of him than he wants to know right now. 

“I want to apologize for what I said before,” Hongjoong says. 

“You don’t have to,” Seonghwa says quickly. “I know you didn’t mean it like that.”

“I want to,” Hongjoong insists. “You know this, probably, that I’m not the nicest guy around on the surface, but I also hate invalidating the feelings of people who don’t deserve it.” 

“I know,” Seonghwa says, nodding. “I’ve forgiven you already, so you don’t have to feel bad anymore. I don’t feel any differently about you than I did before.” He sounds like he means it, but even if he’s no longer upset about Hongjoong’s careless remark, he’s still chosen to avoid any interaction with Hongjoong for an unusually long period of time and that makes it seem like something is still amiss. Hongjoong just doesn’t know what. 

“So that doesn’t have anything to do with you avoiding me like the plague for the last three days?” Hongjoong asks, raising his eyebrows. 

“I, well,” Seonghwa says, clearing his throat, a mix of indiscernible emotions passing through his face before he looks down and makes it difficult for Hongjoong to read what else he’s thinking. “It’s hard to explain, but I was preoccupied with other things.” It’s not a very good excuse if he’s trying to create one at all, but Hongjoong does not blame him. Hongjoong would not want to be around himself, either, considering what he’s said and done. 

“That’s fine,” Hongjoong says. “You’re a busy man anyways.” 

“No. I had to sort out my own emotions first,” Seonghwa says, like he’s afraid Hongjoong will misunderstand. “I don’t usually… lose my cool like that, so I was a little embarrassed at having to face you again after acting so childishly.” 

“It wasn’t childish,” Hongjoong says firmly. Seonghwa needs to understand that he shouldn’t have to repress his uglier emotions just because they’re harder for people to digest. Not when he has Hongjoong, who doesn’t see Seonghwa’s off moments as burdensome, who’s willing to take Seonghwa any and every way he can get him. “You’re allowed to be upset and angry when someone doesn’t properly acknowledge all the hard work you do. How else would I know how to treat you better?” 

“Thank you,” Seonghwa says. His eyes are glassy, and Hongjoong doesn’t look too long because he doesn’t want to tear up, too. “I don’t...I’ve never really been told that concretely. I’ve always just been told to move on and be the better person, so it became a habit to just stuff away everything I found hard or hurtful to verbalize.” 

“Get better friends, then,” Hongjoong says, and Seonghwa gives him a small, appreciative smile. 

“I did,” Seonghwa says, meaningfully, and Hongjoong’s stomach does a silly little swoop. “I got you.” 

There’s something about the way he’s watching Hongjoong that makes fire race up the curve of Hongjoong’s spine, dark and intense yet revering, and Hongjoong breaks eye contact because he doesn’t want to think about what the depth of Seonghwa’s stare means right now. 

“I mean people other than me,” Hongjoong says, going on before Seonghwa can say anything in response. “But this is not the kind of setting that I want to apologize in, so I’ll treat you to steak when you have time. If you have time?”

“Steak?” Seonghwa echoes. 

“Yeah,” Hongjoong says. “Your favorite food. You think I wouldn’t have realized by now?” 

He’s suddenly engulfed in warmth, realizing a second later that Seonghwa has pulled him into a bone crushing hug with no regard for the condition of his own fancy suit. 

“You’re going to wrinkle your clothes,” Hongjoong says, voice muffled by Seonghwa’s chest. 

“It’s fine,” Seonghwa says. “I love you, Hongjoong.” 

“That’s dramatic,” Hongjoong says with a snort, and tells his heart to calm the fuck down. “All because I’m treating you to steak?” 

“Yes. Because you paid attention to what I liked and remembered, even though you have trouble remembering other things. And I have time today, so...” Seonghwa says, practically bouncing with excitement and making Hongjoong laugh again, louder. “Take me to eat steak _today_.”

“Okay,” Hongjoong says, fondness wrapping itself around him like a warm blanket on a cold winter day, and he realizes his entire body feels so light now that Seonghwa’s smiling at him again. 

✩ ✩ ✩

Taking Seonghwa to eat steak opens a portal Hongjoong is absolutely not prepared for. 

Sure, he gets to see Seonghwa lose his absolute mind over a dish Hongjoong doesn’t particularly hate or crave, and it’s probably the most delighted he’s ever seen the head of sales get about anything other than invading Hongjoong’s personal space, but Seonghwa also drinks enough wine to go tipsy and subsequently, go _too_ friendly. 

Hongjoong had expected for things to be more serious while they ate, as he’d prepared a larger, deeper explanation for his behavior so that Seonghwa would know that any invalidation of his efforts by other people was most likely a result of their own insecurities and not anything he’d done wrong. 

Instead, Hongjoong just listens as Seonghwa giggles his way through nearly the entirety of their meal, chattering away about everything and anything else besides the original purpose of Hongjoong asking him to dinner. If Seonghwa doesn’t want to talk about it anymore, Hongjoong gets it. He thinks Seonghwa has gotten the big picture anyway, what with Hongjoong taking the initiative to personally visit the sales department just to deliver the apology that Seonghwa deserved. 

Leaving is yet another episode. Seonghwa keeps trying to wrap his arms around Hongjoong when Hongjoong is just trying to put Seonghwa’s coat on for him, before Hongjoong finally manages to shove Seonghwa’s arms into the proper, designated sleeves, ushering him out of the establishment before Seonghwa does something else embarrassing. 

It’s a good thing Hongjoong drove. After Seonghwa buckles himself up in the passenger’s seat, he stretches his arms out wide and hits Hongjoong in the shoulder, who’s trying to mind his own business and get the engine going so he can send Seonghwa’s giggly ass home. 

“I like you _this_ much, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa says, slapping Hongjoong’s arm again to reiterate his point, and Hongjoong laughs as he looks up from his phone to see Seonghwa in T-pose. 

“You like me an amount equivalent to the length of your wingspan?” Hongjoong asks, amused. 

“Yeah!” Seonghwa says, then shakes his head. “Wait, no. Just, a lot? My wingspan might not be enough. Because you’re so nice to me, and I like it when you’re nice because you only choose to be nice when you mean it.” 

“So I’m an asshole the rest of the time, is what you’re saying,” Hongjoong says, holding in his laughter at how many times Seonghwa has used the word _nice_ in one sentence.

“No,” Seonghwa says. “You’re just… you make it very clear when you don’t want to be around someone who doesn’t value your time? So you’re curt, I guess.” 

“That’s… true,” Hongjoong says. His humor can be a little rough at the edges, a little chilly when he doesn’t respect or particularly like the person he’s having a conversation with. He just hadn’t realized Seonghwa had picked up on that specific detail, too, but he’s not all that surprised, because Seonghwa pays close attention to every single thing he can possibly observe about Hongjoong. 

“But I valued your time,” Seonghwa says, as Hongjoong backs out of their parking space and heads towards the closest parking lot exit. “I tried to show you good restaurants and make you happy, so that you would find more reasons to keep on spending time with me.” 

“Seonghwa?” 

“I also really, really like it when you say my name,” Seonghwa mumbles, running a hand through his hair. It’s not as neat as it was earlier in the day, but he’s gorgeous regardless. “I don’t remember the first time you said it, but I just know that you started calling me by my name more when you started to like me more, even though you weren’t admitting it yet.” 

“Your image is falling apart,” Hongjoong says, even as his heart pounds faster in his chest. Maybe he shouldn’t have treated Seonghwa to steak if it was going to turn Seonghwa into a Compliment Monster. Too much positivity directed at Hongjoong makes Hongjoong want to shrivel up and die. 

“I don’t have an image with you,” Seonghwa says. “I’m just me.” His eyes are closed, and he briefly opens them to stare at the control buttons on his right side. “Can I roll down the window a bit?” 

“Do you want the air conditioner?” Hongjoong asks. “I can turn it on for you.” 

“I want to feel the wind on my _face_ ,” Seonghwa says, making Hongjoong laugh yet again, and he pouts when Hongjoong rolls the window down only a centimeter. “That’s like not rolling it down at all.” 

“You’re going to get sick,” Hongjoong says. His attention is on the road, but he can see Seonghwa crossing his arms over his chest out of the corner of his eye. “You’re not in a good place to make any decisions for yourself right now.”

“I make good decisions always,” Seonghwa retorts. 

“Like choosing to ignore me for three days because you’re embarrassed?” 

“I deserve one full day where you’re not mean to me,” Seonghwa whines. “Give me a voucher for that.” 

“Maybe for your birthday,” Hongjoong says, finally giving in and letting himself feel openly fond of the man mumbling nonsense next to him, and Seonghwa merely makes a noise of irritation at him before the steady motion of the car eventually lulls him into a deep sleep. 

✩ ✩ ✩

Hongjoong doesn’t mean to stay. 

He means to drop Seonghwa off and go home, because his clothes smell like restaurant food and he wants to change into something comfortable to smell less like steak. His jeans get annoying after a whole day of wear, too, material rough and thin in all the wrong ways, and it would do him so much good to just drop into his own bed right about now in his favorite pair of lounge sweatpants. 

But when he leaves his car on and unlocks the car so that Seonghwa can get out by himself, Seonghwa wrinkles his nose at Hongjoong. 

“What?” Hongjoong asks. 

“Turn off your car,” Seonghwa says. 

“It’s late.” Hongjoong knows what Seonghwa wants, but it’ll be easier on both of them tomorrow morning if they just part ways now. Going to work on too little sleep is a hell Hongjoong knows to avoid, and—

“Please, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa begs, pulling at Hongjoong’s sleeve. 

And Hongjoong caves. If he’s completely honest with himself, he’s always been weak to Seonghwa, and it’s just now that he’s stopped fighting against it. “Only for a bit,” he says, and Seonghwa finally steps out of the car, satisfied. 

Once they’re inside, Seonghwa pulls Hongjoong into a hug, rubbing his nose into Hongjoong’s hair. “You always smell nice,” he says, and Hongjoong is so stunned that he just pats Seonghwa’s back awkwardly to return the hug. “It’s a comforting scent. I missed it.” 

“I smell like steak and pasta,” Hongjoong jokes. “So I guess food’s comforting for you.” 

“I know what you smell like,” Seonghwa says, indignant. “It’s your laundry detergent, I think, and whatever you use on your hair. You don’t use any cologne, I think.” He’s still hugging Hongjoong, and he sniffs at Hongjoong a couple more times, as if confirming that what he’s saying is indeed correct. 

Hongjoong can feel his cheeks flush red, and he’s glad that his face is at an angle where Seonghwa can’t see him. “Are you a dog?” he asks. 

“That’s a secret,” Seonghwa says with an air of mystery, except he just sounds silly, and Hongjoong laughs at him, and tries not to think about how cute Seonghwa’s boxy smile is now that he likes the person behind it, too. 

“I guess I’ll never know,” Hongjoong says, playing along. The wind gets knocked out of him as Seonghwa hugs him tighter. 

When Seonghwa finally frees Hongjoong from his grip, he says, “I didn’t say anything earlier because I didn’t want things to get sappy or sad during dinner. I wanted the memory of you treating me to steak to be all good.” The wine’s probably worn off, based on how clear his pronunciation is compared to earlier, but Seonghwa could have also been pretending to be tipsy so that Hongjoong would tolerate all the touching. 

“I get that,” Hongjoong says. He’s cold, now that Seonghwa’s arms are no longer around him. “And I think you understood where I was coming from even without me having to explain.”

“I know how you are,” Seonghwa says, nodding. “You’re the type of person who does all your work seriously and just wants to be acknowledged for it, but there are plenty of people who are rewarded when they don’t do nearly as much as you do.” He hesitates. “So thank you.” 

“For what?” 

“For everything,” Seonghwa says. “For reminding me that it’s okay for me to be selfish and value my own feelings over everyone else’s sometimes. For the dinner, and for going out of your way to make sure I was okay even when you didn’t have to. For setting your ego aside to apologize multiple times and admit your mistakes even though you didn’t have any bad intentions to begin with.” 

“I let my own prejudice and insecurities hurt you,” Hongjoong says. “And that was awful of me, because you hadn’t done anything to deserve that kind of treatment. I gave you the impression that you could be yourself around me and then hurt you where you were the most sensitive just because I was immature.”

Seonghwa pulls Hongjoong further into the living room to make him sit on the couch. “You’re not immature,” Seonghwa says. “And to admit all of what you just said about yourself is not something most people would be willing to do.” 

“I’ve... never been the type of person to make friends easily,” Hongjoong says. “I either attract or repulse people, so people like you have always seemed very out of reach, when you’re so friendly with everyone and make it look unfairly easy to be the way you are. I didn’t like talking unless it was necessary, which I was punished for in school, so I tended to dislike people who always had something to say but never said anything of use with so many words. That dislike also transferred by default to people who said a lot with a lot of words and were generally kind people, even though it shouldn’t have.” 

“I get that,” Seonghwa says. “Can I tell you something?” 

“Yes,” Hongjoong replies. 

“I like you as you are.” Seonghwa takes Hongjoong’s hand, spreading Hongjoong’s fingers so that he can fit his own into the negative spaces. His skin is a little cold, but Hongjoong feels like he’s burning up where they’re touching. “I like that you’re careful with your words, and that you think deeply about how you affect other people even if you don’t show it. That I never have to talk in circles around you because you’d rather spend that extra time talking about things that matter more. I also… like how you roll your eyes when you smile because you think something’s funny but you don’t want to give anyone the satisfaction of having made you laugh.” 

“It’s because you’re always saying embarrassing things,” Hongjoong says, and Seonghwa smiles at him. 

“And despite the fact that you like to dress and act like someone who never grew out of their rebellious phase,” Seonghwa says, temporarily pulling his hand free to drag his fingertips across Hongjoong’s exposed knee through the rips of his jeans, “I feel like I can trust you with my deepest, darkest secrets.” 

Hongjoong is afraid. He wants to let himself believe he’s special to Seonghwa, but when he looks down, he just sees the ring on Seonghwa’s hand and sees everything else it means—that Seonghwa’s heart belongs to someone else and that Hongjoong, who’s always met the right people at the wrong time in the wrong circumstances, might be truly unlovable in the end. 

_Don’t get attached to me,_ Hongjoong thinks. _Don’t tell me anything that will make it hard for me to leave you in the end._

“Can I do that?” Seonghwa asks when he sees the way Hongjoong’s face has gone still, and Hongjoong closes his eyes before Seonghwa can figure out what Hongjoong’s silence really means. “Is that too much to ask of you?” 

It’s a blessing and a curse that Seonghwa is pushy about everything except the things that really matter. He’ll drag Hongjoong into running extra errands with him and test-tasting the new recipes he’s trying out, but Seonghwa is putting the power in Hongjoong’s hands the one time Hongjoong doesn’t want to be the one to make the decision. 

“You can do whatever you want,” Hongjoong says, feeling betrayed by the way his voice goes a little too high, which Seonghwa notices immediately.

Seonghwa says, “I know you don’t like me as much as I like you—”

_He doesn’t mean anything by it, he doesn’t mean anything by it—_

“—but I knew that you were someone I wanted to be around early on, when you told me I wasn’t silly for believing in soulmates,” Seonghwa continues. “Although I could tell how much you didn’t agree with the idea and that you wanted to laugh at me for it.” 

“It’s not that I don’t believe in soulmates,” Hongjoong says, and gathers his thoughts for a bit before he eventually adds, “I do. It’s just the popularized concept of it that I don’t particularly like, because life doesn’t end when you’ve found your soulmate. There’s timing, and circumstances, and obstacles, all of which can prevent you from being together despite how much you mean to each other, along with the fear of ruining things when you can just keep things as they are and not want anything more.” 

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa says, and the tone of his voice is enough for Hongjoong to realize he’s said too much. “Are you…?” 

“Am I what?” 

“You mentioned a…” Seonghwa’s voice goes shaky, and Hongjoong isn’t really sure why. “An online friend, a long time ago.” 

“Yes,” Hongjoong says. He’s surprised Seonghwa still remembers, because it’s been nearly a year and they hadn’t really been friends back then, but Seonghwa is very good at remembering details when he finds them important. 

“Are you in love with them? That friend?” Seonghwa asks. 

“You’re lucky I’m so exhausted,” Hongjoong says, inhaling quietly. “Or else I would hit you.” 

Seonghwa pays no heed to the threat. “So it’s a yes?” 

“I don’t know,” Hongjoong says. His affection for Mars seems so deeply rooted these days that he doesn’t even know how to describe it for Seonghwa to fully understand him. “It’s not a no, but it’s hard to tell because I didn’t really fall for him so much as I sank right into him, and then I was never really able to climb back out.”

He doesn’t notice the pronouns he’s used for Mars until he realizes Seonghwa has pulled completely away, not in the sort of way where he looks uncomfortable, just curious and a little shocked. 

“You like guys?” Seonghwa asks. 

“Not… exclusively,” Hongjoong says. It’s odd that he feels completely fine answering a question like this when he’d been so afraid of similar ones before. He thinks it’s partially due to the fact that it’s Seonghwa who’s asking, not someone trying to categorize Hongjoong based on the way he looks and acts and see if it makes sense in correspondence with what genders he’s attracted to. “I’m… okay with both men and women.” 

“Oh,” Seonghwa says, and then he grabs Hongjoong’s hands again, and Hongjoong has no idea what that’s supposed to mean. “Have you met your friend before?” 

“No,” Hongjoong says. 

“Do you want to?” 

_Yes._

“I don’t know,” Hongjoong stammers. “There are times when I think it’s better for us not to meet, so I hesitate.” 

“Why would it be better not to meet?” 

“Because I don’t know who he is beyond the person he’s constructed to show me in our online conversations,” Hongjoong says, and Seonghwa frowns. “Because he could be someone I’m not expecting when we meet in real life, and we might end up hating each other when we cross that boundary no matter how hard we try.” 

“What if you don’t?” Seonghwa asks. “What if you don’t hate him?” 

“What if I do?” Hongjoong asks, and Seonghwa doesn’t answer. “I can’t make things go back to the way we are if I meet him and we somehow mess things up. Why would I ruin a perfectly good relationship just because I’m greedy and expect something more?” 

“Are you happy like this?” Seonghwa asks. “Knowing he’s out there, and that he might be in love with you back?” His eyes are shiny, as if he’s going to cry at the expense of Hongjoong’s boxed up emotions, and Hongjoong doesn’t know what he did to deserve someone as empathetic as Seonghwa.

“I’m a coward who’s happy _enough_ ,” Hongjoong replies, and takes in the smell of steak and cologne as Seonghwa pulls him into a hug, patting Hongjoong’s hair soothingly like he’s putting a child to bed. 

✩ ✩ ✩

Hongjoong means to go home. 

He means to do a lot of things, but plans never go accordingly when Seonghwa’s around, because Seonghwa is a puppy with a mind of his own and wide, begging eyes that make even the strongest of men give in. 

So Hongjoong ends up in Seonghwa’s bed, in Seonghwa’s clothes, because he somehow gets convinced by the man that he’s much too tired to drive home and he should just stay _here,_ and he’s torn between laughing and panicking at the situation he’s ended up in. 

Seonghwa’s toothpaste had made Hongjoong’s breath all minty, and he’d stared at the toothbrush and plastic cup Seonghwa’d given him after he brushed his teeth, wondering if Seonghwa was going to try and coax him into more conversation as soon as he left the bathroom. 

(He did.) 

Hongjoong already dislikes talking when he’s tired and his brain-to-mouth filter is practically nonexistent, and it’s going to be...even more difficult to separate his for-himself thoughts and for-other-people thoughts considering he hasn’t really figured out how to squash the wave of desire that threatens to crawl up his spine every time Seonghwa so much as brushes his hand against Hongjoong’s. There is no way to win this uphill battle, so Hongjoong lets Seonghwa invade his personal bubble as much as he wants, while Seonghwa chatters a mile a minute about how he’d moved all of his stuffed animals to the chair in the corner just so Hongjoong would have space on the bed to sleep. 

Hongjoong would protest that Seonghwa’s bed is too small to fit anything except for Seonghwa, stuffed animals piled on the side or not, but Seonghwa doesn’t give him any space to escape and curls up next to Hongjoong once he’s forced Hongjoong on the side closer to the wall. 

“I’m too tired to be having any substantial conversation with you,” Hongjoong says, when he realizes Seonghwa isn’t going to stop talking. He barely registers Seonghwa’s fingers running through his hair, and only really notices because of Seonghwa’s nails digging lightly into his scalp. “Is this how you’re keeping me awake? By reminding me that you could draw blood from my head at any point?” 

“No,” Seonghwa says, laughing, and Hongjoong really...loves the sound of Seonghwa’s laugh, the trill and melody to it, even loves how it’s a little too squeaky and youthful to match the image Seonghwa has at work even if it perfectly matches his real personality. “I just like your hair.” 

“Thanks,” Hongjoong says. “But it’s going to make me fall asleep even faster if you keep playing with it like that.” 

“Do you snore when you sleep?” Seonghwa asks, and Hongjoong shoves at him lazily. 

“That’s why I said I was going home.” Hongjoong closes his eyes, and feels the temptation of unconsciousness pulling at his eyelids like heavy, heavy weights. The extra pillow Seonghwa had brought out for him is so soft. “But no, I don’t, according to my mom.” 

Seonghwa hums thoughtfully, pressing closer to Hongjoong. “What were you like as a kid?” he asks, just when Hongjoong is about to fall asleep. Hongjoong can feel the thin, barely there hairs rise at the back of his neck from how close Seonghwa’s breath is. “Were you born as sarcastic as you are now?” 

“Very funny,” Hongjoong says. “I didn’t have much of a personality, actually, until I got older. Up until the age of twelve, I was agreeable about most things and just wanted to eat everything my mom made. Maybe looked at some rocks outside but that was about it.” 

“What happened after you turned twelve?” 

“The sarcastic personality trait was unleashed,” Hongjoong says, and Seonghwa laughs into the pillow. “Basically started shifting into the personality I have now, except with more unnecessary judgment because puberty was involved and I had less life experience in general.”

“I see,” Seonghwa says. 

“What were you like when you were younger?” Hongjoong asks. “Were you the sweetheart of your high school?” 

“No,” Seonghwa says. It’s too dark to see, and Hongjoong’s eyes are almost fully shut, but he can _hear_ the blush that must be paired with the embarrassment in Seonghwa’s voice. “Don’t make fun of me, Hongjoong.” 

“I’m being serious,” Hongjoong says.

“There’s nothing fun to tell, really,” Seonghwa says. “And I’m not sure if you would believe me.” 

“I would,” Hongjoong says, and Seonghwa smiles, he thinks. “You know that.” 

“I was very withdrawn as a child, and even more so as a teenager,” Seonghwa confesses. “I kept my bangs long and hardly trimmed them because I didn’t really want to be seen.” 

“Why?” Hongjoong asks. “You must have been a cute fourteen year old.” 

Seonghwa stays silent for a few seconds, and Hongjoong opens his eyes to check if he’s accidentally said something wrong. “Did I upset you?” he asks. 

“No,” Seonghwa replies. “I was thinking. I just… to put it simply, I was afraid of what people would see.”

“What were you so afraid of?” Hongjoong asks, and Seonghwa shakes his head. His breath quickens, like he’s anxious, and Hongjoong… wants to tell him it’s going to be okay. Hongjoong’s dumb ass is going to fall asleep soon, but regardless, things are going to be okay. “Is it still… something you’re afraid of people seeing?” 

“Truthfully…” Seonghwa says. “Sometimes?” 

“So what changed?” Hongjoong asks. “You don’t cover your face anymore, and you’re not withdrawn at all.” 

“I learned to get over it,” Seonghwa says, with a quiet laugh. “I met people over the years who appreciated me for who I was and not who they wanted me to be, and I realized that the world wasn’t as scary as I thought it was, since most people are blind to your inner thoughts because they’re so preoccupied with their own.” 

“That’s true,” Hongjoong says, so tired that a yawn finally comes out, and Seonghwa’s hand travels from Hongjoong’s hair to the back of his neck, fingertips cool against the skin. 

“Sorry,” Seonghwa says. “I’ve kept you up for too long.” 

“It’s okay. Just… wake me up in time for work,” Hongjoong mumbles right as his brain dips out of consciousness, and when he feels a pair of lips press gently against his forehead, he figures it’s his imagination. 

✩ ✩ ✩

Mars is one of the main reasons Hongjoong had been able to come fully to terms with his own sexuality and accept that he wasn’t entirely straight. 

It’s not like being bisexual is that difficult when you can pass for being straight as long as you keep your silence, but Hongjoong had… wondered, for years, whether it was worth it to pretend he wasn’t attracted to boys just so he could find some sort of normality in his life, even if he didn’t really care about living up to people’s expectations for “normal” in any other aspect. 

But one of the first things Hongjoong had learned about Mars was that Mars is gay, and that had somehow snowballed into a conversation about what it meant for them to move around in the world as people who didn’t align with society’s heternormative agenda, and slowly but surely, Hongjoong had found the courage to accept himself as he was without invalidating his own feelings by default every time he’d needed to consider where he fell on the spectrum. 

And honestly, Hongjoong had always figured that his lack of interest in the general human population meant he wouldn’t ever have to… make any hard decisions in the long run involving feelings attached to other people, but being around Seonghwa makes that old anxiety and fear of _desire_ return, curling its thin, scaly claws around Hongjoong’s neck and making it hard for him to breathe. 

Hongjoong is good at crushing attraction in its early stages, is good at not being attracted at all, but he’s got no defenses prepared for the way his attraction to Seonghwa sneaks up on him and hits him full force in the face, like a spice that he doesn’t understand and keeps chasing until it overpowers his senses altogether and all he’s left with, is a lesson learned the hard way in the form of a burned mouth. 

✩ ✩ ✩

In the face of new, overwhelming feelings, Hongjoong withdraws into himself in the hopes that things will sort themselves out as long as he doesn’t dwell on his attraction to Seonghwa more than he needs to. Letting thoughts linger means that those thoughts grow large and powerful and deadly, and Hongjoong is but an ordinary man who only wants to live peacefully, so he needs to play it safe and move on before his feelings complicate the friendship with Seonghwa he’s worked so hard to save. 

What he doesn’t consider is that avoidance only really works in theory and not so much in execution, because Mars and Seonghwa won’t disappear just because Hongjoong’s drowning in his own inner turmoil. Not to mention, Mars doesn’t know how much Hongjoong’s heart has changed in the time that Seonghwa has gone from being a hindrance to a blessing, so he asks the very questions that make Hongjoong want to curl up and hide from himself. 

_Did you work things out with your… coworker?_ Mars asks in the afternoon, the day after Hongjoong stays over at Seonghwa’s apartment. Hongjoong’s eyes are still dry and uncomfortable, since he’d needed to wake up at an ungodly hour this morning to head back to his own apartment and get ready for work. Seonghwa had… held onto Hongjoong’s arm longer than necessary at the door, telling Hongjoong to drive safely after shoving a small piece of toast into Hongjoong’s mouth and bidding him goodbye. 

_Yes_ , Hongjoong replies. 

_Did it go well?_

_Too well,_ Hongjoong thinks, and just sends a thumbs up emoji to Mars while he rests his forehead on his desk in equal parts anguish and guilt as he realizes how fucked he is for being torn between two completely different people, one who he’s never met and one who he’s not allowed to have. 

✩ ✩ ✩

Hongjoong arrives back at his apartment a quarter before noon on a Saturday morning. His hair’s a little greasy, and he hasn’t washed his face since yesterday before he went to work, but he’s humming a tune that he only recognizes once he’s stepped inside and taken off his shoes. 

It’s the opening theme song from the French mystery show he and Seonghwa watch together whenever he goes over to Seonghwa’s apartment, although it’s a little funny that Hongjoong’s brain remembers how the melody goes when he’d fallen asleep fifteen minutes into the hour long episode last night. 

He’d woken up hours later in Seonghwa’s bed, face smushed into the thicker part between Seonghwa’s arm and shoulder, and he’d been much too sleepy to think about why Seonghwa hadn’t just left him out on the couch in the living room with a blanket, or something. 

Seonghwa had stirred awake, then, with just Hongjoong breathing slightly different next to him, blinking a few times before turning to look at Hongjoong with half-lidded eyes. “‘Joong? Are you awake?” he’d asked, softly. 

“Just for a little bit,” Hongjoong had whispered back. “I can sleep on the couch, you know.” 

Eyes closed again, Seonghwa had shook his head and grabbed a fistful of Hongjoong’s shirt, as if making sure Hongjoong wouldn’t be able to leave. Hongjoong hadn’t known what that meant, had been more afraid of the way his own heartbeat grew louder and louder while Seonghwa had just let his head fall back against the pillow. “Stay.” 

“Seonghwa?” 

“It’s fine,” Seonghwa had mumbled, curling his fingers tighter, second knuckles resting flat against Hongjoong’s chest. Hongjoong had wondered if Seonghwa had been able to hear the thunderous beat of his heart that way. “Sleeeeeeeep.” 

“Okay,” Hongjoong had said, attributing the dryness of his throat to dehydration and not the fact that Seonghwa had insisted on him staying for reasons unknown to Hongjoong, and he’d slept. 

In the morning, it’d been fine. Hongjoong had woken up alone, with his phone placed perfectly parallel to him a few inches away, on top of the blankets, and he’d realized after a few seconds that there was noise coming from the kitchen. 

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Seonghwa had said, after Hongjoong had pitter-pattered quietly to the kitchen and Seonghwa had noticed he was finally awake. He’d been soaking a slice of bread into what looked like an egg wash, a hint of vanilla extract and slight sweetness in the air. “Do you like French toast?” 

Hongjoong used to rush home just so that he could be alone and be available for Mars to start talking to him. He wasn’t interested in other people, and physical, face to face interaction seemed so meaningless when no one was willing to dive deep into him the way Mars had, seeing all of the shards that made up Hongjoong’s patchwork quilt of a personality and deciding that even with all those mismatched squares, Hongjoong was worth being around. Having Mars made Hongjoong forget about how cold and empty his apartment seemed whenever he came home to it after a long day out, and he’d learned to rely on photos and his imagination to visualize the sort of life that Mars was living, accepting that the power of their bond was enough to keep him going even if it meant he was alone in real, tangible life. 

Hongjoong had forgotten all about what it felt like to be around someone, forgotten about how _nice_ it was to hear a laugh other than his own or how wonderful it could be to watch the transformation from confusion to amusement on someone’s face as they listened to one of Hongjoong’s dry, witty punchlines. 

Until Seonghwa. 

Hongjoong used to spend weekends by himself, but now he’s used to weekends booked up by the antics of a puppy-like man with more than enough energy and enthusiasm for the both of them. Seonghwa is so warm, so giggly, so enthralled by life that Hongjoong has no choice but to get pulled into his world and follow along for the ride. Where there was originally only silence in his schedule is now filled with boxy smiles just for him and fussing hands to fix his clothes and hair, and Hongjoong is suddenly struck by the realization that given the choice, whether it be ten, a hundred, or a thousand times, he would always choose to have Seonghwa in his life even if it means he has to deal with a little more noise and a little more chaos. 

And that makes it a little hard to breathe, sometimes, because Hongjoong used to fear the day Mars might just log off forever without any warning and abandon him. 

Now, Hongjoong thinks that if such a thing happened, he’d be upset but not devastated, and that makes him feel like he doesn’t deserve anything at all when he dares to be so ungrateful for all that Mars is and has been to him. 

✩ ✩ ✩

Hongjoong is not sure what wakes him up at three in the morning. He hasn’t left his bedroom light on so that’s not the reason he woke up, but he does need to pee, and it’s only after he’s returned from the bathroom that he remembers he must have lost his phone somewhere in his blankets. 

When he finally spots it and grabs it, the screen lights up, showing one new notification from Mars. 

_Do you think it’s possible to feel like you’re living a lie, even when you’re not?_

Hongjoong reads the message over at least four times. Mars has never voiced any negative feelings about his own life in front of Hongjoong, which makes it all the more alarming that Mars has sent this at a time when he knows Hongjoong would usually be asleep. 

_wdym , mars??? R u ok??_

Mars replies three minutes later. _Why are you awake???_ he asks. 

Relief floods Hongjoong’s entire body. _i woke up briefly to pee, and saw ur message : (_

_You should go back to sleep , then. Dont mind me_

_wtf no, that’s not what we abt to do. tell me what’s wrong mars_

_I’m fine. I just… found something out about someone close to me, and it’s changed everything about our relationship but I don’t know what to do about it._

_what did u find out?_ Hongjoong asks. 

_I can’t go into details, but it’s not anything bad in particular. I just,,, feel like I should let them know that I know, but I could also lose them forever._

It’s a little disappointing, that Mars can’t tell Hongjoong details about the issue bothering him. Hongjoong knows it’s not because Mars doesn’t trust him, and that it’s likely just out of respect for the other party, but that doesn’t dull the sting any less. Hongjoong can’t know everything about Mars no matter how hard he tries, no matter how high he tries to jump over the fortress wall that exists between Mars and him. 

Hongjoong shouldn’t be so hypocritical. He and Mars have never really _agreed_ to be in a relationship, but they’re...significant to each other, and yet Hongjoong is in the middle of falling in love with someone else. What right does he have to know about anything Mars is going through? 

_will it hurt u to keep the fact that you know abt it, a secret?_ he asks Mars. 

_Maybe. It would hurt much, much more if I lose them, though._

Hongjoong frowns, before he types and sends, _that’s such a hard situation to be in. i guess it really just depends on which option allows you to be safe and preserve the friendship the way you want it to be preserved?_

_You’re right._

_im sorry that i cant take that burden away for you. i would do it in a heartbeat if i could,_ Hongjoong says. 

It’s a shame that whoever this is about, whoever Mars is suffering over, doesn’t know how lucky they are to have Mars in their life. Hongjoong can’t reach through his phone screen to protect Mars from everything in the world that might hurt him, but he can be the soul Mars comes back to any time he needs to be seen, to be heard, to be understood. 

_Having you listen to me is more than enough, Blue. You should go back to bed._

Hongjoong closes his eyes momentarily, before opening them again so he can ask, _do you want to talk any more about it?_

_Nah, I’m good. I want you to sleep since you sleep so little_

_do not_

_Okay, mr. i’m running on five hours of sleep,,, this is why you’re always tired and exhausted. You shouldn’t rely on coffee and tea and god knows what else you ingest to boost your energy…_

_Ooh,_ Hongjoong replies. _the mad mom attitude is coming out. LUB U MARS GNIGHT_

_Goodnight, sweet dreams, Blue._

✩ ✩ ✩

“You know, I didn’t expect to like you so much,” Hongjoong says offhandedly, and Seonghwa drops the metal spoon he’s washing. 

(They’d gone to the movie theater earlier to watch a foreign film that Seonghwa had wanted to see, and he’d made fun of Hongjoong for falling asleep despite working on films for a job. Then they’d picked up dinner from a Korean place near Seonghwa’s apartment, and as they’d walked side by side, Hongjoong had resolutely ignored Seonghwa every time he’d brushed his knuckles against Hongjoong’s, not allowing himself to think Seonghwa was being anything other than careless. 

At home, Hongjoong had watched Seonghwa get _tteokbokki_ sauce all over his lips for approximately ten seconds before taking a clean napkin and wiping Seonghwa’s mouth so that he wouldn’t think about how much he wanted to kiss him.) 

Seonghwa turns off the faucet. “What?” 

“What?” Hongjoong says back, before realizing how that might have sounded. (And yes, he’s fully accepted that he’s Into Seonghwa, now, because his life is always difficult and his misanthropic tendencies decided to skip right over Seonghwa, but he doesn’t mean it like that.) “Sorry, I meant like, as friends. ‘Cause I wasn’t that fond of you at first, but you’re so much… more than I was expecting.” 

Seonghwa stares at Hongjoong for a long, silent beat before turning back to the sink and turning on the water again. “What were you expecting in the beginning?” 

“I thought you wanted something,” Hongjoong says. 

“I did,” Seonghwa replies, chuckling. “Your friendship.” 

“Let me revise. I thought you had ulterior motives, or that HR had launched some plan for all the different departments to better understand each other.” Hongjoong scrunches his nose. “I kind of expected you to be… less genuine? But you remember all your promises and follow through on everything you’ve said you wanted to do, and you really understand how to make people feel comfortable even if their personality is different from yours.” 

“My parents were always insistent on treating people kindly,” Seonghwa says, placing the spoon and several other rinsed off eating utensils into the dishwasher rack. “That nothing else mattered if a person’s heart wasn’t good.” 

“Your parents are lovely people, then,” Hongjoong says, and that earns him a smile from Seonghwa. 

“They are,” Seonghwa says, but his face falls and his shoulders slump, and it seems like his thoughts have travelled somewhere too far for him to reach. It’s happening a lot more often these days. Hongjoong isn’t sure whether it’s because Seonghwa is subconsciously letting his walls down more and more in Hongjoong’s presence, or if it’s because Seonghwa still hasn’t quite recovered from the residual effects of his unexpected outburst at Hongjoong. 

He doesn't look at Hongjoong when he says, “But what if we get to know each other more, and I’m not as good or nice as you think I am?” 

It’s not a question that Hongjoong expects, especially not from Seonghwa, who should theoretically never have to worry about running out of people who like him, shouldn’t worry about Hongjoong not liking him when Seonghwa’s never been anything other than kind to him. “Why would you ask that?” 

“You don’t know everything about me,” Seonghwa says. “Which means it’s possible that our friendship would change once you do.” 

“Does that matter?” Hongjoong just knows that he likes being around Seonghwa. Because Seonghwa pays attention to the very parts of Hongjoong that Hongjoong hides away from other people, and _appreciates_ them, it’s so much easier to breathe knowing that even if the whole world is against Hongjoong, Seonghwa will be there to extend his hand in support and pull Hongjoong out of the hellish flames of his own mind. “I know enough to see _you_ for who you are on the inside, and our friendship won’t change just because you have a few skeletons in your closet. Everyone has their own.” 

“What if I make the wrong decisions?” Seonghwa asks. “Or do something that’s difficult to forgive? Would you still… stay?” It’s too specific to be hypothetical, but it’s obvious that Seonghwa is nervous about whatever he’s not saying so Hongjoong is not going to push. Hongjoong doesn’t know why he’s thinking of Mars right now, and how odd it is that both Mars and Seonghwa seem to be plagued by guilt over something they’re not willing to say out right. 

The fear of loss is so crippling, Hongjoong notes, once he sees it materialized so vividly in Seonghwa’s face. A younger Hongjoong did his best to hold onto everything and everyone that mattered to him, but after failing with his first love and being ghosted by his childhood best friend with no explanation, he’d stopped letting people worm their way into his heart so easily. He could have dug his fingers into the people he was losing so that they would stay, but in the end he would have merely been holding on to shells of who those people used to be, nursing the illusion of a connection when in reality the strings binding them had long broken. 

And Hongjoong is too old to be asking people if they’ll love him forever when all he can do is hope for the best, choosing instead to pretend he doesn’t care one way or the other. He holds back on childish requests for attention so that no one will ever feel embarrassed by how much he needs them, and he’s behaved that way long enough that he sometimes believes it, so Seonghwa laying out his heart in front of Hongjoong like this makes Hongjoong’s chest constrict in a way he doesn’t think is healthy. 

“Yes,” he says, and Seonghwa lifts his gaze to make eye contact with Hongjoong. “I would stay, not because you can’t do anything wrong in my eyes, but because I would understand that you tried your best and there would most likely be context for why you did whatever you did.”

“Do you mean that?” Seonghwa asks. 

“I don’t say anything unless I mean it,” Hongjoong says. “You know that. I don’t know how other people choose their friends, but we’re friends, and that means that all of your flaws and mistakes, I’ve chosen to accept because I’m here to watch you grow. I’m not going to leave you unless you ask me to, unless you get tired of me.” 

“I won’t,” Seonghwa says, voice thick. “So don’t ever leave.”

For some reason, Hongjoong imagines Mars saying the same words, even though he’s never heard Mars’s voice, only knows that Mars didn’t like the way he sounded for years until his coworkers complimented him about it repeatedly and he slowly started to agree with them. 

The guilt drops like a stone in his stomach, and Hongjoong wonders why, after obtaining the genuine connections of friendship and understanding he’s been craving for years, after receiving love in all the ways he thinks he’s needed it, he’s more at a loss than ever. 

“Okay,” he says, inhaling slowly, to which Seonghwa offers him a relieved smile. It reaches his eyes, as it always does these days whenever he’s looking at Hongjoong, and Hongjoong tries his best to catch his breath.

✩ ✩ ✩

It’s not that Hongjoong has never thought about kissing Seonghwa before, when Seonghwa is so pretty and smiley and pokes at Hongjoong’s personal bubble without ever considering the consequences he might face. (One, that he might get scratched because Hongjoong is a grumpy kitten with a volatile tolerance meter and two, that Hongjoong might fall in love with him, which is significantly more troublesome than the first one.) 

Hongjoong is usually better about avoiding careless mistakes. Attraction has always been easier for him to suppress than act out on. He’s not dying for physical affection, and he’s not really in the mood to do something stupid either, like ruin a perfectly good friendship by kissing a man who doesn’t want to be kissed by him, probably. 

It’s just that it’s two in the morning, and Seonghwa is growing more and more excited as he goes into detail about the next toy figurine he wants to build along with all the new recipes he’s going to try out. With only one dim lamp turned on and nothing else, his features are softened by the warm, orange glow of artificial light, and there’s an irresistible sparkle of enthusiasm in his eyes that makes Hongjoong realize that… he really is looking at the most beautiful person in the world, and all he can do is _want_. 

So without much thought, Hongjoong instinctively leans in to kiss Seonghwa, who stops talking as soon as Hongjoong’s mouth touches his, and then Hongjoong’s brain finally catches up with the rest of him to process what the fuck he’s just done. 

“Sorry,” Hongjoong says, leaning back. Seonghwa is staring at him with wide eyes, and Hongjoong just starts calculating how fast he can pack up his things and disappear from Seonghwa’s sight. For life. “It was just…” _you were cute,_ he thinks, but that’s not really an excuse because Seonghwa is always cute and Hongjoong is just a big ‘ole idiot. 

But it doesn’t really matter. Hongjoong doesn’t have the time or space to figure out the rest of his sentence before Seonghwa has bowled him over and pressed way too close, the armrest of the couch digging into Hongjoong’s spine as Seonghwa kisses him eagerly and sucks up all of the breath Hongjoong has left in his lungs. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Hongjoong says, partially into Seonghwa’s mouth, and he’s afraid that Seonghwa isn’t going to listen to him because Seonghwa is already tugging at Hongjoong’s shirt and sliding his hands up Hongjoong’s sides, dots of fire left behind on Hongjoong’s bare skin every time Seonghwa’s fingertips lift and then land again. 

But Seonghwa does listen, and he lets his teeth drag across Hongjoong’s lower lip before he pulls away and sits up to pout at Hongjoong. “Don’t wanna.” 

Hongjoong tries to separate himself from Seonghwa, which Seonghwa sees clearly and ignores, thighs continuing to rest heavy on either side of Hongjoong. Propping himself up by laying his hands flat behind him, Hongjoong says, “Seonghwa.” 

Pretending to be oblivious, Seonghwa places his palms so that they fit nicely into the curves of Hongjoong’s hip bones. “What?” 

Hongjoong furrows his eyebrows at him, and Seonghwa responds with his eyebrows too, raising them high as he gives Hongjoong a faux clueless look. 

“Are you going to get off me or what?” 

“That depends,” Seonghwa says, letting his hands drift up ever so slightly, and Hongjoong rolls his eyes. Seonghwa is so _pushy._ “Are you going to let me continue kissing you if I do?” 

“No,” Hongjoong says, nervous energy melting in together with his disbelief at the fact that Seonghwa is being so calm about this, and he laughs to compensate for how much he feels like throwing up. “You’re into guys?” 

“Yeah,” Seonghwa says. “Especially you. Was it not obvious?” 

“No,” Hongjoong says. “I’m so…” 

“What?” 

“Confused,” Hongjoong says, frowning, and Seonghwa smirks at him. 

“I can clear things up for you, if you want,” Seonghwa says, to which Hongjoong replies by smacking him on the arm. “Ow. That hurt, Hongjoong~” 

“Good, because you’re shameless,” Hongjoong says. His head is spinning, and it only spins faster as Seonghwa leans in close to kiss up the side of Hongjoong’s neck, peppering wet kisses along Hongjoong’s jaw and across his cheek before he’s scanning Hongjoong’s face for something. 

“You don’t seem to mind,” Seonghwa says. Hongjoong can tell he means to deliver the statement with confidence, but the twitch of his jaw says Seonghwa isn’t as composed as he would like to be, that he’s aware he could be reading Hongjoong’s body language all wrong. 

“I guess I don’t,” Hongjoong says, looking away from Seonghwa, and Seonghwa catches on quickly, that Hongjoong has given him unspoken permission to continue. If he wants. 

Seonghwa accepts the invitation wholeheartedly, but he’s a little too enthusiastic and ends up bumping noses with Hongjoong when he tries to kiss him, and Hongjoong laughs at him before Seonghwa tries again. 

Hongjoong has always found kissing to be a little awkward, always had to think about how to avoid clumsy mistakes and how to react to weird noises and how to _breathe_ , even, but for some reason all of that disappears with Seonghwa, who slots his open mouth against Hongjoong’s parted lips, licking and biting until Hongjoong’s laughter morphs into soft, quiet breaths and all he can think about is how fast Seonghwa’s making him melt and disintegrate from the inside out. 

“Do you know how hard it’s been to look and not _touch?_ ” Seonghwa complains, biting at Hongjoong’s earlobe, teeth knocking into the metal of Hongjoong’s earrings, but his eyes are bright. 

“Not touch? Haven’t you taken every opportunity to do so?” Hongjoong laughs, feeling ticklish when Seonghwa exhales an indignant huff against his neck. 

“Not in the way I wanted to,” Seonghwa says. He cups Hongjoong’s face in his hands, just staring, gaze darting to a different point every few seconds, like he’s memorizing the terrain of Hongjoong’s facial features. “I had to settle for less.” 

“How you’ve suffered,” Hongjoong says dryly. 

He doesn’t notice how tense his whole body is until Seonghwa’s manhandled him off the couch and into his bed, pushing Hongjoong so that he lands on his back onto the soft worn sheets of the comforter, and tells Hongjoong in a soft, gentle murmur to _relax_. Nervous anticipation curls at the pit of Hongjoong’s stomach, because he’s embarrassed by the way Seonghwa hardly ever looks away from him even as he’s figuring out where he wants to put Hongjoong, even more embarrassed by how much harder he gets when he sees Seonghwa bite his lip in response to Hongjoong’s shirt coming off. 

Seonghwa asks quietly if he can touch Hongjoong, who both hears and feels the words because Seonghwa utters them into the corner of Hongjoong’s mouth, breath warm on Hongjoong’s chin. It’s clear to him now, how impatient Seonghwa is and how much he’s holding back in order not to overwhelm Hongjoong and scare him based on the careful, slow movements of his hands as they travel downwards. 

Seonghwa patiently waits for the dip of Hongjoong’s nod before he slips his hand underneath the waistband of Hongjoong’s sweatpants, palming Hongjoong through the cotton of his briefs, and that has Hongjoong’s jaw going slack as the last bits and pieces of any rationale left in him jump ship, sensation of Seonghwa’s light touch simultaneously too much and not enough. 

In any other situation, it’s natural for Hongjoong to maintain his composure, at least outwardly. He’s not afraid of people discovering that he’s flawed, because he’s human after all, but it’s a combination of his personality and his aversion to feeling vulnerable that allows him to keep everyone at a certain, safe distance. He checks his teeth after meals to make sure they’re clean, doesn’t laugh too loud in front of people he doesn’t know well, and rarely ever says anything to reveal how he’s feeling or what he’s thinking unless he’s asked to. 

Right now, though, Hongjoong can’t even worry about what he looks like when Seonghwa demands his undivided attention and more, not even sure which part of Seonghwa’s face his mouth is touching because his insides are burning up and he can’t decide whether he wants to let the flames crawl higher up or put them out with ice water. Their kisses are sloppy and wet and hot, and Seonghwa’s strokes are torturously slow, completely opposite of how Hongjoong likes to get himself off, and Hongjoong wants to scream. 

“Hurry up,” Hongjoong hisses, when he finally gathers enough brainpower to spit out the two words, digging his nails into Seonghwa’s back in irritation. 

Pulling away from Hongjoong’s face, Seonghwa laughs, calm as can be, and Hongjoong is going to bite him somewhere, anywhere, until he draws blood because Seonghwa deserves it. 

“Why?” Seonghwa asks, hand going even _slower,_ and Hongjoong’s mouth falls open in a soundless scream. “When I could take my time and watch you fall apart, inch by inch?” 

Hongjoong’s going to die. Seonghwa has all the power right now and he’s well aware of it, taking great delight in the way Hongjoong is suffering from just enough friction to lose his mind halfway yet not gain any real satisfaction from it. 

Hongjoong is nearing tears by the time Seonghwa finally decides he’s going to be generous and tugs at Hongjoong’s cock with a tighter grip at a faster pace until Hongjoong comes, spilling between both of their bare stomachs as he sinks his teeth into Seonghwa’s shoulder out of both spite and pleasure. His only solace is knowing that Seonghwa isn’t as composed as he’s pretending to be, because as soon as Hongjoong starts to come down from his high, Seonghwa grinds against Hongjoong’s hip for only a few seconds before he goes still, dropping his head silently, his bangs brushing against Hongjoong’s forehead as he waits for the waves of his own climax to fade. 

“Clean up, clean up,” Hongjoong hears Seonghwa mumbling a few minutes later, as he presses a kiss to the side of Hongjoong’s face, but Hongjoong’s brain is a pile of mush and so he just lets Seonghwa wipe wherever he pleases until he’s satisfied with how clean Hongjoong is. 

Then Seonghwa falls back into bed and clings onto Hongjoong immediately, and Hongjoong is too far gone to protest, only remarking that it’s just another on-brand character trait for Seonghwa to be a cuddler, to which Seonghwa only laughs and agrees. 

“Can I keep you?” Hongjoong thinks he hears Seonghwa ask, just when he’s about to fall asleep. Seonghwa always picks the wrong time to say possibly-important things, and Hongjoong means to ask for clarification, he really does, but his eyelids are just so heavy. 

Hongjoong dreams about golden olive hands and a face obscured by shadows, and a new sort of weight begins to settle deep and heavy into his bones as he sleeps throughout the night. 

✩ ✩ ✩

Hongjoong wakes up to warm sunlight. 

At first, there’s only calm. He attributes it to the sensation of having rested enough even though he knows he fell asleep way too late last night, mind fuzzy at the details of conversation sprinkled throughout yesterday’s events. 

Hongjoong doesn’t remember where he is until he realizes Seonghwa’s face is pressed into his neck, arm draped over Hongjoong’s stomach as he sleeps, chest rising and falling in time with his slow, even breaths. 

That has Hongjoong going still, his body freezing in place, and Seonghwa starts to stir. 

Seonghwa sounds just like a puppy when he starts to wake up. He makes these soft, muffled whimpers that have Hongjoong automatically wanting to smooth out the confused furrow of his brow, but the broadness of his shoulders and the dip of his collarbones is a reminder that Seonghwa is not at all a puppy, and Hongjoong is not so much surprised by what he remembers from last night as he is surprised that he’d let it go so far. 

“Hongjoong?” Seonghwa’s voice is ragged from sleep, and he snuggles closer to Hongjoong even as Hongjoong’s heart feels like it’s going to tumble out of his throat and onto the hardwood floor of Seonghwa’s bedroom. 

Panic flares up in Hongjoong’s chest. He can’t breathe like this, let alone think straight, and he pushes lightly at Seonghwa to loosen Seonghwa’s grip on him before he gets out of the bed. 

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa says, sitting up once he fully wakes up and realizes Hongjoong is panicking. The comforter falls with his sudden motion, revealing the rest of his torso as he rubs at his eyes and watches Hongjoong with a pensive look. “What’s wrong?” 

Hongjoong is mildly aware that he’s not making much sense right now, but he can’t look at Seonghwa right now, can’t _think_ about how he’s basically in love with two different people even though he shouldn’t be. And as he pulls on his clothes shakily, he does not think about Mars, who says _i love you, sleep well_ every time Hongjoong accidentally falls asleep in the middle of their chats, who says he thinks there’s no one else in the world who will ever understand and connect with him the way Blue does, while Hongjoong has gone and found physical comfort in someone else. 

“I need—” Hongjoong coughs. “I need time? I can’t…” 

“Do you regret it?” Seonghwa asks. 

Hongjoong shakes his head, because when he had chosen to kiss Seonghwa, had let Seonghwa kiss him back last night, he’d been tired, not intoxicated. Despite all his reservations and fears, it has been near god impossible _not_ to fall for Seonghwa, who is soft and sweet and kind and everything else in a person Hongjoong has wanted his whole life but never thought of reaching for. Giving in to that attachment and attraction, however, means that it’s no longer Hongjoong in his own head wondering whether it’s worth the risk to ask for more when he can lose it all. He’s gotten Seonghwa involved, now, and Seonghwa doesn’t deserve someone who can’t figure their shit out, who has their heart divided between two different people. 

Maybe Seonghwa doesn’t think this means anything. Maybe he’s the one who regrets it, because he still wears his ring for the friend who Hongjoong’s never met and Hongjoong is just _there,_ and Hongjoong’s imagined everything Seonghwa said about wanting him— 

“That’s good,” Seonghwa says, getting out of the bed, too, but that makes Hongjoong back up. 

“Is it?” Hongjoong says, brushing off Seonghwa’s hand when Seonghwa tries to touch his arm. “Seonghwa, this is not how—” he cuts himself off and turns around, because he hates talking about anything if he’s not calm, especially in situations where he hasn’t plotted out how to express his emotions down to the exact phrases and words. 

“Please don’t leave,” Seonghwa pleads, wrapping his arms around Hongjoong’s waist in a back hug, his chest molded to the curve of Hongjoong’s spine. His voice is quiet but firm, and his hold on Hongjoong is desperate, but not demanding. “Please don’t get mad. Please talk to me.” 

It’s like being physically touched by Seonghwa transfers his calmness to Hongjoong too, because Hongjoong suddenly feels less frantic, less terrified. His brain slows down, atmosphere of the room feeling less stuffy as words begin to form themselves into clear chunks and blocks of thought instead of just fly around aimlessly. 

“I’m not mad,” he says. “I would never be mad at you.” 

“Then why are you trying to leave?” Seonghwa leans forward and rests his chin on Hongjoong’s shoulder. “You’re usually more open about what you’re feeling, but you’re clamming up on me and I’m scared.” 

“Sorry,” Hongjoong says. 

“For what?” Seonghwa asks. 

“For scaring you by clamming up,” Hongjoong says. _For liking you. For wanting more and not being able to follow through. For opening up to you when I should have stayed far away in the first place._ “For kissing you, for—”

“So you didn’t mean it when you kissed me?” Seonghwa asks. “I know you said you didn’t regret it, but I would rather you be honest so that I don’t misunderstand, even if it hurts me.” His voice cracks, ever so slightly, and Hongjoong wishes he could be oblivious to all the uncertainty and fear packed in such polite words. 

If Hongjoong just lies and tells Seonghwa it was a momentary whim, it’ll all be over. It’ll hurt both of them, but some decisions, as good as they are, initially bring pain and suffering. 

Even then, it’s the long term effects Hongjoong should be focusing on. By letting go of Seonghwa, he’ll be able to fully go back to Mars, who has been there for Hongjoong through thick and thin, and he won’t have any lingering feelings for Seonghwa because Seonghwa will most likely stop being friends with him. 

But with Seonghwa around, Hongjoong has been so _happy_. He doesn’t have to pretend to be nice or soften his humor or filter the natural way he talks, because Seonghwa, annoyingly, pushed his way into Hongjoong’s heart long before Hongjoong even wanted to open it up, and he’s never really met someone who sees so _much_ of him and still wants to stay. And as much as he hates being touched by another human being and being bothered when he just wants to be left alone, he’s okay with those things if it’s coming from Seonghwa. 

“It would make things so much easier if I didn’t mean it,” Hongjoong admits, and Seonghwa turns him around so that he can see Hongjoong’s face. 

“Hongjoong?” 

Hongjoong’s attention suddenly sharpens on the ring on Seonghwa’s hand, again, and he wants to laugh and maybe cry, too, because he’s always been a little bit of a black cat and without fail, bad luck always strikes the few times he manages to fall in love. “Aren’t you… what about the ring?” 

“What about it?” Seonghwa asks, taken aback by the question. 

“It’s your special person,” Hongjoong says. He hadn’t thought to ask last night, because he’d been too tired and attracted and delirious to care about anything other than the fact that Seonghwa wanted him just as much as he wanted Seonghwa. 

“Oh,” Seonghwa says. “They’re not… it’s not like that, at least not anymore. For a long time, it’s been you.” He pauses, before adding, “To be honest, Hongjoong, it’s always been you.” His voice is thick, like there’s something else he wants to say but is holding in, and his words feel heavy in the air between them even after he’s long stopped speaking. 

Hongjoong takes a deep breath. “I… okay.” 

“Does that..” Seonghwa says. “Does that make things better?” 

“I don’t know,” Hongjoong says. “I’m still upset.” 

“At me?” 

“ _No_ , never,” Hongjoong says, and then the words start to spill out of him. “At myself, because I...I still like my… my friend, because he’s everything to me. He’s been there for every stupid, sad, funny thing I’ve said and he puts up with my broken sentence chat bubbles and it’s thanks to him that I haven’t felt alone or unwanted in a long, long time. He understood me when no one else bothered to, and a lot of the confidence and happiness I have today is because I had him there to support me.” 

“But you’ve never met him,” Seonghwa says. “What if all of it is a lie?” 

“It can’t be,” Hongjoong says. “But if it is, then I’ll deal with the fallout then.” 

Seonghwa sucks in a breath, visibly. “So what about me?” 

“I like you, and I respect you, and I adore you more than you’ll ever know,” Hongjoong says. It’s simultaneously pleasant and painful to watch the way Seonghwa lights up at the simple confession. “But I can’t lose either of you, and it’s unfair of me to put you in this situation because I still haven’t figured out what I wanted. It’s odd that I’ve done something so stupid and impulsive, since I never want my affection to come across as ambiguous or convenient—”

Seonghwa is still holding onto Hongjoong’s hands, but Hongjoong’s only reminded of that when Seonghwa squeezes them, and that grounds Hongjoong enough to stop panicking and subsequently, stop rambling. “Hongjoong.”

“What?” Hongjoong asks. 

“Are you… is the issue just that you haven’t decided who you like better?” 

Hongjoong does not want to discuss this with Seonghwa right now. “Why are you asking me something like that?” 

“Because you’re always in control of your emotions,” Seonghwa says. “So you being unable to control them right now means that I have a chance.” 

“This is not…” Hongjoong frowns, trailing off. It’s not like he actively wants his heart to be put up as the prize of a competition, and he doesn’t want to put Seonghwa in any sort of position to compete when it’s _his_ fault that his own heart is wavering between two people. 

“If you really liked him the most,” Seonghwa says, “you wouldn’t have kissed me. You’re not someone who does things like that just because you’re bored or because it was a convenient situation. You’re someone who only does things when he really wants to, but I…” he falters a little, and Hongjoong hates that he’s the reason Seonghwa looks so fragile, like he’s made of glass and one wrong move could make him shatter. “Don’t shut me out just because you want to punish yourself for thinking with your heart instead of your head this one time. Please.” 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Hongjoong says. “I’ve done that before, accidentally, and it was the worst.” 

“So meet him,” Seonghwa says. “Meet your friend, for real, in person. I’ll wait for you until you figure out whether you’re in love with him.” 

“I can’t,” Hongjoong says. Seonghwa knows how Hongjoong feels about Mars, how he feels about asking Mars to meet, and to leave Seonghwa hanging while he tries to untangle the web of knotted emotions inside of him seems too selfish. “You’re—”

“Why not?” Seonghwa asks. 

“You _know_ why.” 

“I do, and it doesn’t make sense to me,” Seonghwa says, the corners of his mouth pulling down. “That even after all the time we’ve spent together, even after you kissed me because you wanted to and let me touch you, you’re still invested in a person whose face you’ve never even seen, whose voice you’ve never heard.” 

“That doesn’t make him any less real,” Hongjoong says, weakly. “His significance in my life doesn’t diminish just because I met you, as wonderful and kind and important as you are to me.” 

“I know,” Seonghwa replies. “Hongjoong, I know. But are you going to live your whole life romantically and emotionally invested in a person who you’re afraid to even _see_?” 

His words might be interpreted as cruel if it were an outsider listening in, but Hongjoong is not an outsider to Seonghwa’s body language, which makes up half of everything else he’s trying to say right now. Hongjoong has been privy to a side of Seonghwa nearly no one else sees, so he _knows_ Seonghwa even if he can’t always read his mind, and it’s so clear from the odd pitch of Seonghwa’s voice and the way he’s gripping onto Hongjoong’s hand, tight enough to bruise, that he’s just as scared of being abandoned as he is upset that Hongjoong isn’t brave enough to take this one risk for both of their sakes. 

And despite all the arguments Hongjoong has against what Seonghwa has just said...deep down, he knows Seonghwa is right. He can’t live his whole life tiptoeing around his feelings for Mars and expect Mars to understand him when Hongjoong refuses to say anything directly, but he needs time to sit on the possibility of meeting because it’s _scary,_ to seek out the physical form of someone’s existence when you’ve only known all the words they’ve ever said to you, lost to an online archive that he can only scroll back through if he knows the keywords. 

“Okay,” Hongjoong says. “Is it enough for me to think about it? Think about meeting him?” 

“Yes,” Seonghwa says, almost surprised, before he smiles slightly, and Hongjoong gives an equally small smile back, hoping that he doesn’t lose Seonghwa because of this if things eventually go sour for them. 

Seonghwa pulls on a clean white t-shirt, tucking it into his Adidas sweatpants before he herds Hongjoong into one of his zip up hoodies. The jacket reaches down to mid thigh on Hongjoong and probably makes him look even shorter than he already is, though it’s not like he’s trying to impress anyone when there’s only Seonghwa here, and Seonghwa already… sees past all of the superficial things that might turn other people away from Hongjoong. 

Hongjoong rolls his eyes, albeit affectionately, when Seonghwa then slips his hand into Hongjoong’s, letting their fingers intertwine even though he’d said he would wait for Hongjoong to properly meet Mars first, but he doesn’t fight Seonghwa on it. 

“Will you stay for breakfast?” Seonghwa asks, hopeful and a little...unsure of himself, even with everything that’s been said between them, and Hongjoong nods. 

✩ ✩ ✩

Hongjoong is not courageous. He’s not a coward, either, when it really matters, perfectly capable of stepping up to a challenge if it comes his way, but he decides whether to do something based on how much of a difference it’ll make, loosely calculates how much effort a task or conversation will take from him compared to the results that it might yield. That’s why he gives Yunho feedback without holding back, because Yunho can handle it and it improves the quality of his work, and also why he never bothers messaging Yeosang when he knows he won’t get a reply until a month later, after Yeosang finally remembers he’s got an app on his phone called Messenger. 

It’s always been easier, to pretend that he doesn’t need or want anything from anyone else when he’s actually just too afraid to ask. 

If he’d never met Seonghwa, Hongjoong might have continued to talk to Mars without ever asking to meet, because Hongjoong is a man without much ambition both in love and in work. Recognition, validation, understanding is all he seeks, but happiness seems like a target traveling light years ahead of him, and twenty-seven year old Hongjoong is satisfied just being happy _enough_ , even if younger Hongjoong dreamed of life-altering love and changing the world. 

But Seonghwa exists, a man who’s unreal and raw and kind in so many ways beyond what lies on his exterior, and it’s because of him that Hongjoong has realized that he’s allowed to reach for who and what he wants in order to be a little happier. That selfishness is good for setting boundaries as well as expanding them, and that moving forward is about taking risks and bracing himself for loss no matter how afraid he is. 

So he thinks, and deliberates, and fidgets, until he’s considered all of the ways this could go wrong and all the ways he should handle those scenarios before he finally steels himself to ask Mars the question. 

_mars,,,_

Mars’s reply is quick, today. _What is it, Blue?_

Hongjoong’s heart is beating so fast, and with trepidation, he sends, 

_i know we’ve never talked about this, but is it ok… are u willing to meet me? no pressure, it’s just that i really want to see and hear the physical you. We’ve been friends,,, soulmates,,,, for so long that it would mean a lot to me if we could._

Mars types, then stops, then starts again, and it takes a few more minutes before a notification from him comes in. 

_What if it ruins what we have?_

_it won’t,_ Hongjoong replies, even though he’s always been scared of that, too. It’s a little less terrifying to talk about this, now that he knows Mars’s never brought it up not out of indifference, but because he was feeling the same shadow of uncertainty Hongjoong has never managed to shake off. _bc we’ll make it work._

 _What if you decide you don’t want to be friends with me anymore?_ Mars says, and Hongjoong’s nose stings at the fact that Mars would even think it possible for Hongjoong to want to stop being friends with him. 

He doesn’t cry, though, just reassures Mars with, _that won’t happen. ur my miracle, remember? you’re the only reason im even still on this stupid website. even if we decide we don’t vibe in person, we vibe online. that won’t change, ever._

_You’re right. But… why did you suddenly decide you wanted to meet?_

Hongjoong could give any reason. That he’s curious as to what Mars looks like, that they’ve known each other long enough that it’s weird they _haven’t_ met. Instead, he decides to be honest, because that’s the least he can do for Mars, the man who’s gotten Hongjoong through lonely, solitary days where he thought the worst of himself and gave Hongjoong the greatest kind of love when Hongjoong least expected it. 

_because i.... because someone loves me, and i… as much as it hurts me to say this to you, am very fond of them. But Mars, you were the first person to really see who i was, in an ocean of strangers on the internet, in a sea of almost-strangers in my real life, and i’ve never known what it’s like to appreciate and love myself to the extent that you’ve taught me until i met you. i can’t imagine how dull my life would have been if i hadn’t found you, if you’d written me off and never replied to that first letter, but i got so, so lucky._

_Blue… you gave me unconditional love and showed me how to protect myself from the harsh, insensitive demands of other people who did everything out of self-interest. I’ve never met someone who’s so different from me and yet so similar, and I’ll always love you in all the ways you need no matter what you choose to do after we meet._

Hongjoong closes his eyes. He doesn't like that Mars is already talking like Hongjoong will abandon him, that Mars is expecting Hongjoong to break his heart and still offering his own for Hongjoong to take. 

_mars_

_:) yes?_

_i dont deserve you_

_People don’t deserve or not deserve each other. Even then, you deserve everything, and I would give you all the happiness in the world if I could,_ Mars says, and Hongjoong’s eyes finally give in and gloss over with tears. 

_Im crying_

_Don’t cry, please, or else I’m going to have to call the hug police to give you a hug for me,_ Mars warns him, making Hongjoong laugh even as he sniffles under the blankets and wipes at his nose with the back of his hand. _When would you like to meet?_

✩ ✩ ✩

Hongjoong doesn’t get much sleep the whole week before he and Mars are supposed to meet. He’s equal parts excited, curious, and terrified, and his brain never really takes a rest even when his body is begging it to because there’s just so much to think about. He keeps wondering whether Mars will talk the same way in person as he does online, whether his laugh is delicate and quiet or unruly and high pitched… and even though he tries not to, he wonders, too, whether the connection they’ve fostered for years will break and the magic will disappear as soon as they meet face to face. 

Ultimately, things will be okay. Hongjoong has survived the youthful heartbreak of a crush that he thought would haunt him forever, has survived through the worst of class politics in art school, has survived being told by instructors that he was never going to make it as an animator and then going on to prove all of them wrong. It’s not so much that he can’t live without Mars as he really, _really_ doesn’t want to, and Hongjoong hates that as thrilled as he is to be able to meet the person he considers a miracle, there’s a difficult choice waiting for him afterwards. 

Seonghwa is on edge too, even though he tries to hide it around Hongjoong. Whenever the conversation leans towards the topic of Hongjoong meeting Mars, he changes the subject, and he visits Hongjoong’s office only once over the course of five days, which would have Hongjoong concerned under any other circumstances, but he doesn’t blame Seonghwa for it even if he’s a little surprised that Seonghwa is so deeply affected. 

Hongjoong asks Seonghwa to eat dinner with him the day before he’s supposed to meet with Mars, because Hongjoong misses being around him and he’s a little desperate for the comforting aura Seonghwa tends to radiate whenever they’re together. 

Seonghwa is in the middle of telling Hongjoong about his visit to another company earlier today for a contract negotiation when Hongjoong, without a word, reaches across the table to hold his hand. As usual, Seonghwa’s fingers are cold, but just having their skin touch is enough to make Hongjoong feel calmer immediately, and he offers Seonghwa a small smile when Seonghwa blinks at him in confusion. 

“Hongjoong? What are you—” 

“Let me just do this for a bit,” Hongjoong says. “Continue telling me about your contract.” 

“Okay,” Seonghwa says, squeezing Hongjoong’s hand like he’s afraid this is the last time he’ll hold it, and does just that. 

✩ ✩ ✩

At 4:34 AM, nearly seven hours before their meeting time, Mars sends a message. Hongjoong doesn’t see it until a little after nine, when he’s finally woken up after passing out from sheer exhaustion and stress, eyes blurry as he grimaces at the brightness of his phone screen. 

_I love you lots and lots and lots, Blue. Please remember that. Maybe even more than you love me. I hope our meeting goes well._

It feels more and more like Mars is saying goodbye to Hongjoong when they’ve never even said hello, and as Hongjoong gets dressed for the day, burrowing into the thick material of the teal blue hoodie he’d agreed to wear while he shoves his legs through his jeans, he wonders if there was anything else he could have done to make Mars give the two of them a real, fighting chance. 

✩ ✩ ✩

Hongjoong doesn’t remember much of the drive to the coffee shop Mars has suggested for their meeting location, only that he’d changed the song every time a sad, sappy one came on, because he’d really wanted to avoid listening someone wailing about heartbreak or failed love when he was already so anxious. 

He doesn’t expect to see Seonghwa, who’s sitting at a table in a more secluded corner of the coffee shop, scrolling through some feed on his phone with his thumb. Logically, it feels like Hongjoong should be nervous, because having Seonghwa here would technically be an additional complication to a situation that’s already tense enough, but he just feels… at ease. 

Mars doesn’t seem to have arrived yet, since there is no one in this part of the shop who is sitting alone other than Seonghwa. For a moment, Hongjoong wonders if Mars would do something as cruel as stand him up, but that thought quickly diminishes when he remembers how many nights they’ve spent talking about everything and anything. Mars has revealed details about himself over the years that always matched up, something that would be too hard for someone to do if they were making it all up. There’s no reason Mars doesn’t know what he means to Hongjoong, and Hongjoong just has to have some faith. 

“Seonghwa?” Hongjoong calls out, wrapping the neck strap of his lanyard around his hand. His keys clink against each other noisily, which he stops by curling his fingers into a fist around them, and Seonghwa looks up at him. 

He’s looking at Hongjoong, that’s for sure, but he doesn’t say anything and just watches Hongjoong with apprehension. 

Hongjoong tilts his head. “What... are you doing here?” he asks when Seonghwa continues to watch him in silence, like he’s expecting some sort of reaction from Hongjoong. It’s a little unsettling, because Seonghwa’s manners are impeccable even if he’s upset and he would never ignore Hongjoong on purpose, but…

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa says. His voice sounds strange, again. He’s been in an odd mood these few days, understandably, but Hongjoong wonders if he’s done something wrong by showing up here specifically, right now. Maybe Seonghwa is expecting someone for a work meeting, despite it being the weekend, and hadn’t planned on running into Hongjoong. 

“Yeah?” Hongjoong fidgets. 

It finally dawns on him that Seonghwa had initially looked…nervous when Hongjoong first called out to him, but now his expression shifts into something more akin to disbelief as he stares at Hongjoong for a few seconds before he just rubs at his temples.

“Why, what’s wrong?” Hongjoong asks. He checks his phone for the time, and notes that Mars is running a little late. _You’re worrying over nothing_ , he thinks. _Mars wouldn’t hurt you like that._ “Why are you acting weird?” 

“You…” Seonghwa says, gesturing to himself. “Do you not…?”

Hongjoong raises his eyebrows, waiting. “Yeah?”

Seonghwa raises his eyebrows back, which feels incredibly familiar, but that’s probably because Seonghwa likes to mess with him every time Hongjoong’s unwilling to say something outright and mimic whatever nonverbal sentence Hongjoong’s got written across his brow bone. 

“You’re an idiot,” Seonghwa finally says in resignation, and Hongjoong sputters at the insult that seems to have come out of nowhere. 

“Okay, hold up,” Hongjoong says, “I’ll admit that I’m goofy _sometimes_ , but I don’t like being called out about it this early in the day. I’m also stressed out as fuck, Seonghwa, which you’re aware of, and I am going to vibrate out of this cafe soon if Mars doesn’t come.” 

“No,” Seonghwa says, shaking his head. He looks amused now, and Hongjoong is going to get emotional whiplash at how many times Seonghwa’s facial expression is changing. “You’re goofy, always, but that’s not the point. Look at me.”

“I’m looking,” Hongjoong says, with still no clue as to what Seonghwa is hinting at. He takes a few steps closer to Seonghwa but doesn’t sit down, scanning the coffee shop again for anyone who might appear to be waiting, alone. Then he looks back at Seonghwa, who’s smiling at him. “What do you want me to see?”

“What am I wearing?” Seonghwa asks.

Hongjoong wets his lower lip as he observes Seonghwa more closely. Seonghwa is sporting a red hoodie, the drawstrings tied together in a floppy bow, along with a pair of light blue jeans with the wash faded so much that the blue almost looks gray. “Casual clothes?” 

Mars is supposed to be wearing red, too. That will make it easy for Hongjoong to spot him whenever he does eventually arrive. 

“Really?” Seonghwa asks, like he can’t believe Hongjoong is this obtuse, and he sighs quietly before he says, “Sit down, first.” 

Hongjoong feels like he’s back in high school again, taking a pop quiz in a class where he hasn’t done the reading for weeks and can only hope for the best. Except this isn’t a class. This is Seonghwa, who never does anything cruel like test Hongjoong on unspoken, hidden questions because it’s just not who he is, but he has something he’s planning and he’s not telling Hongjoong what it is. 

And why isn’t Mars here yet? Or messaging Hongjoong to explain why he’s late? 

“I shouldn’t,” Hongjoong says, hesitant, and Seonghwa just looks expectantly at him until Hongjoong obediently pulls the empty chair out from under the table and lowers himself onto it. 

“Do you see what’s on the table?” 

There’s a single rose. Mars had mentioned he would bring a single flower, too, but Hongjoong is not sure what the point of this guessing game is and he wishes Seonghwa would just tell him what’s going on. 

“A flower?” he says, quietly, because Seonghwa is looking progressively more and more frustrated with him, and Hongjoong is under too much pressure to perform well verbally or think of creative answers to riddles when he’s never been good at them in the first place. 

“You really don’t feel anything?” 

“I feel _anxious_ ,” Hongjoong says. “Are you angry with me?” 

“No,” Seonghwa says. “Just…” he extends his hand, palm facing up. “Here. Take my hand. Don’t freak out, okay?” 

“I’m going to freak out now that you told me not to,” Hongjoong complains, reaching out anyway and placing his hand into Seonghwa’s. He thinks that Seonghwa might be breaking up with him, but they’re not even together, and Seonghwa’s smile is not a pitying one. “So end my misery already and tell me what you’re doing.” 

“Your friend told you to wear something blue,” Seonghwa says. “Right?” 

“Yes,” Hongjoong confirms, before he squints at Seonghwa, puzzled. “Wait. How do you know that?” 

“I know a lot of things about you, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa says. “Even if you don’t think you told me, I still know.” 

Hongjoong’s anxiety continues to climb. “I don’t… follow?” 

“Say my first name backwards,” Seonghwa urges him. 

“...Hwaseong,” Hongjoong says, pausing for a moment to think before realization starts to trickle in and he remembers that _Hwaseong_ is Korean for Mars, and that Mars still hasn’t showed up, and that Seonghwa doesn’t seem to be waiting for anyone else other than Hongjoong. “ _No_.” 

He tries to pull his hand away, but Seonghwa holds on tighter to him. “Hongjoong.” 

“No,” Hongjoong says. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am.” Seonghwa brings Hongjoong’s hand up to his mouth and kisses Hongjoong’s knuckles. 

“Seonghwa?” 

“ _Blue,_ do you recognize me yet?” Seonghwa asks, carefully, quietly, and the mention of the name that only Mars would know makes Hongjoong feel like his blood has frozen over, whole body going numb as all the puzzle pieces in his head start to fall into place. 

Twenty seven. Works in sales. Cooks. _Cleans._ The same golden-olive hands with a certain familiarity that he could never understand. The fact that they’d been talking to each other about the coworkers they were getting close to when they were really just describing each other. 

The odd, weird things Seonghwa, who’s _also_ Mars, would say that would leave Hongjoong bewildered as to what they...no, _he_ meant. 

_To be honest, Hongjoong, it’s always been you._

_Do you think it’s possible to feel like you’re living a lie, even when you’re not?_

_It would hurt much, much more if I lose them._

_What if I make the wrong decisions? Or do something that’s difficult to forgive? Would you still… stay?_

_Can I keep you?_

“Oh _fuck_ ,” Hongjoong says, feeling his breath get knocked out of him as it finally settles in that this is for real, and that he’s fallen in love with the same man twice. 

✩ ✩ ✩

The thing Hongjoong does right after he says “Oh _fuck,”_ is not stand up, or run away, or get angry. 

To both his and Seonghwa’s horror, he bursts into tears (quiet ones), because the pressure and guilt has been eating away at him for weeks, and seeing Seonghwa sitting where Mars is supposed to be, knowing that the two people in the world he loves are one and the same, makes him so, so relieved and yet so incredibly frustrated at the same time. 

“Oh my god,” Seonghwa says, standing up. “Hongjoong, I’m so sorry.” 

“You _suck_ ,” Hongjoong hisses through his tears, and Seonghwa is already shielding him from the eyes of curious onlookers as he herds Hongjoong out the back entrance of the coffee shop and onto a nearby bench. 

A large hot chocolate and several tissues later, courtesy of confused but considerate staff, Hongjoong finally has enough energy to glare at Seonghwa, who has been holding Hongjoong’s free hand and staring at him in concern the whole time. 

“This makes sense,” he says, and Seonghwa smiles apologetically. 

“What does?” 

“I knew it was impossible for two people to love me,” Hongjoong says, hiccuping, making Seonghwa snort. “Especially two men who were both twenty seven and in sales and liked cooking and _cleaning_. I should have known.” 

“I was surprised that you didn’t figure it out earlier since I messed up a few times,” Seonghwa says, chuckling. Hongjoong loves the sound of it so much, he wants to bottle it up into a jar so he can listen to Seonghwa’s breathy laugh of amusement every time he’s about to sleep. “And that’s not true. You’re very lovable, and I’m just glad that it was me both times.” 

“When did you know?” Hongjoong asks. “Since when did you know that I was Blue?” He could review in his own head, when he’d said something to tip Mars, _Seonghwa_ , off about who he is, but it hurts his brain to even think right now. 

“Do you remember when I got… upset with you?” Seonghwa asks, as Hongjoong sniffles. “And I avoided you for a few days until you came to my office to treat me to steak?” 

“Yes,” Hongjoong says. “And I went to your office to apologize, not _just_ bribe you with steak. Is that all you remember, the steak?” 

He recalls the way Mars had stopped replying that night until Hongjoong had messaged him again, and then the certainty Mars had expressed about Seonghwa definitely forgiving Hongjoong for his mistake. Seonghwa had probably realized as soon as Hongjoong had described his dilemma in detail, and was reeling from the discovery when Hongjoong had thought Mars was ignoring him out of disappointment. 

“It was good steak,” Seonghwa says sheepishly. “And it was a nice way for us to make up even though I already made up with you in my mind, when you poured out your soul about how much you wanted to apologize for hurting my feelings as Blue.” 

Hongjoong frowns. He’s not angry because he can understand why Seonghwa hesitated to reveal himself, but it’s still unfair that he’s known everything for so long and chose to keep Hongjoong in the dark until now. 

Hongjoong would shake off Seonghwa’s hand because Seonghwa deserves punishment, but he likes the warmth. That’s all. “I hate you,” he says. 

They both know that’s not true, but Seonghwa pouts anyways. 

“I’m sorry,” Seonghwa says. He looks cute in his big red hoodie. Hongjoong ought to kick him in the shins. “I… I didn’t think you would cry.” 

“I didn’t either,” Hongjoong says, voice ragged. “I just got overwhelmed. What were you thinking, putting me through a rollercoaster of emotions like that?” 

“I was scared,” Seonghwa says, rubbing his thumb against Hongjoong’s hand in a soothing back and forth motion. “Please believe me. I shouldn’t have kept it from you, I know, but I was so, so scared.” 

“Why?” Hongjoong says. “Of what?” 

“You shared every thought of yours, every raw, vulnerable emotion with Mars, all the fears that kept you up at night,” Seonghwa explains, with a bitter laugh. “But you were so prickly with me at work, and things were rocky when I found out that you were Blue. I wanted to be truthful, I really did, but I was selfish and wanted to keep you longer in case you left me as soon as you realized who I was.” 

“I wouldn’t have done that,” Hongjoong says. “I wouldn’t have thrown away our relationship without giving it a chance first.” 

“I had no way of knowing that,” Seonghwa says, “and you even said you didn’t want to meet Mars.” 

“Because I was afraid that he was going to be some awkward guy who only knew how to express his emotions online,” Hongjoong says. “Or that he was going to instantly hate me as soon as he saw what I was like in person. But neither of those things were an issue, and you still let me run around like a screaming chicken with its head cut off.”

“I’m sorry,” Seonghwa says. “It’s because I… also wanted you to like me as Seonghwa, not because I was Mars. I didn’t want that association to skew how you felt about me.” 

“You _are_ Mars,” Hongjoong points out. 

Seonghwa scrunches his nose. “You know what I mean.” 

“Well, you didn’t have that much to worry about,” Hongjoong says sullenly. “I liked you pretty early on.” 

“What?” Seonghwa says, before he adds, with more conviction, “No you didn’t.” 

Hongjoong arches an eyebrow at him, although he’s sure it doesn’t look anything other than silly considering his eyes are probably puffy from him crying. “I wouldn’t have spent time with you otherwise.” 

“You didn’t even want to give me your phone number,” Seonghwa points out. “You were going to ignore my calls, and you looked like your teeth were getting pulled every time I stopped by your office to say hello.” 

“Because I didn’t want to get attached,” Hongjoong says, and Seonghwa’s mouth falls open in surprise. He wants… to kiss Seonghwa, but they’re sitting in an open area of parking lot where people are walking through every few minutes, so he distracts himself by looking down at his hands instead. “I didn’t know whether you were being friendly because you meant it or because you were just trying to see whether you could crack the guy with a hard walnut shell of a personality.” 

“I meant it,” Seonghwa says. “I meant everything genuinely, but you never thought of it that way.” 

“Why me?” Hongjoong asks. “When you could have anyone you wanted?” 

“You could, too,” Seonghwa says, and Hongjoong rolls his eyes, trying to ignore the traitorous flush crawling up the back of his neck. “Seriously. You just don’t pay attention to how many people are attracted to you. I had several girls in sales asking me if you were dating anyone.” 

“Right,” Hongjoong says, and he laughs when Seonghwa hits him with the sleeve of his hoodie. He knows Seonghwa is telling the truth, but he’s brushing it off before his cheeks turn some horrible shade of red and Seonghwa attempts to capitalize on his embarrassment. “So why does the head of sales have any interest in a guy who’s nothing like him?” 

“Because he’s always dealing with people who only want to get on his good side and take something from him,” Seonghwa says. “And then he sees the head of animation, who’s talented and cute and prickly, who gives zero fucks about playing nice in front of other people, but also gives the cafeteria ladies gifts when lunch hour has passed and pets stray cats at the back of the KQ building.” 

“You…” It’s futile, at this point, for Hongjoong to try and will the heat away from his face because he distinctly feels it rush up to his ears and cheeks. “Don’t spy on people.” 

“And then it was only a matter of time before the head of sales fell for him,” Seonghwa says. His smile is so… boxy, wide enough to show nearly all of his teeth, and Hongjoong understands Seonghwa so much more now, finally knows that Seonghwa’s smile has always been nothing if not sincere when it’s directed at him. “I wasn’t kidding when I said it’s always been you, Hongjoong.” 

When Hongjoong had met Mars, and then met Seonghwa, he hadn’t expected very much. Mars had been sweet and kind, sure, but his presence was fleeting in the sense that Hongjoong didn’t ever know when the man might disappear, never really felt secure that they would be able to keep in touch forever no matter how much they promised each other they would. Seonghwa, on the other hand, had been very much _tangible_ but Hongjoong hadn’t really wanted to get attached, not when he was an acquired taste and Seonghwa had so many other people he could choose, over the kitten in the corner who scratched as long as he felt threatened. 

Hongjoong has never really expected much at all, because he knows how much it hurts to fall down to the cold, heart ground if he lets his heart soar too high, knows that you can’t treat clouds like home when the reality is that you’ll sink right through them. That love can hurt you just as much as it can heal you, and that there’s no one he can rely on to protect his own emotions other than himself. 

But Mars, who’d peeled all of Hongjoong’s layers back and still loved him for every single strength and weakness he saw, accepted with open arms every raw, vicious, shameful thought Hongjoong was vulnerable enough to share, is the same person as _Seonghwa_ , who’s seen Hongjoong at his worst and meanest and has still chosen him twice, once by accident and in the end, by choice. 

“I’ve never…” Hongjoong says, and he looks up to make eye contact with Seonghwa, who’s already gazing at him intently. 

“Never what?” 

“I’ve never wanted much,” Hongjoong says, looking down at his lap. Seonghwa’s legs are long even when he’s sitting, and his knees knock into Hongjoong’s any time either one of them shifts their weight. “I wanted, mostly, to be left alone, even though I also wanted to be understood.” 

“I know,” Seonghwa says. His voice is so fond, and Hongjoong loves him. So much. “You’re just a tiny goblin kitty who wants the occasional sprinkle of affection.” 

“You’re the exception,” Hongjoong says, and Seonghwa’s eyes widen, before they go soft and hopeful. “I don’t… you don’t need me to say it, probably, and I’m not going to say this a lot, but I don’t really want to be left alone as long as you’re around, Seonghwa.” 

“Hongjoong?” 

“Because being around you makes me feel like I’m coming home to a warm fireplace with blankets and hot drinks,” Hongjoong says, words going shaky. “Because meeting you both times, seeing your smile, hearing your voice, everything else about you... makes me feel like my heart’s finally thawing out after traveling in the snow for years, in a harsh, cold winter that never seemed to end.” 

“ _Hongjoong,_ ” Seonghwa says, leaning in so close that their noses bump against each other, and Hongjoong shivers. “You can’t just say stuff like that out of the blue.” 

“I don’t deserve you, but I want to keep you,” Hongjoong says. “Can I?” 

Their faces are so close to each other that Hongjoong isn’t sure whose tears his cheeks are wet from. 

“You have to, you have no choice,” Seonghwa says, which makes Hongjoong laugh. “I would have kept you anyways, whether you liked it or not. Haven’t I always told you that people don’t deserve or not deserve each other?” 

“Yes,” Hongjoong says, grateful to have received more than he’s ever allowed himself to want, and so in awe to be loved by a man who’s laid his heart out for Hongjoong to keep, filled with affection that runs as passionate and powerful and deep as the red planet itself. 

✩ ✩ ✩

They return to work on Monday, as usual. 

Hongjoong had thought he would be more nervous upon seeing Seonghwa, but it’s not too difficult to fall back into old patterns of just-enough distance even if they’d spent nearly every waking moment of the weekend together. The only thing Hongjoong has to do differently is make sure he avoids Seonghwa’s eyes, because Seonghwa has no regard for location or timing and will try to kiss Hongjoong any and every time he realizes Hongjoong’s staring at him. 

There is no wind today, no other KQ employees smoking on the other side of the rooftop. Hongjoong has his hood up because it’s cold, and as he sips the coffee he’s holding with sleeve-covered fingers, he can feel Seonghwa’s eyes burning holes into the side of his face. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Hongjoong asks. 

He turns to look at Seonghwa directly. Seonghwa is staring at Hongjoong owlishly, like he’s afraid Hongjoong’s going to disappear as soon as he blinks. “You’re acting so.. normal.” 

“Should I jump you in front of everyone?” Hongjoong asks with an arched eyebrow. He reaches out to pull Seonghwa’s parka hood over his head, chuckling when Seonghwa nearly sneezes at the wispy fur lining getting into his face. “Is that what you want?” 

“ _Okay,_ that’s not what I mean even if I wouldn’t mind it,” Seonghwa says, scrunching his nose still, like he’s preparing for a second almost-sneeze. Hongjoong rolls his eyes. “It’s just, I feel like everything is a dream, sometimes. And I got scared when I woke up this morning and you had already left.” 

“I left a note telling you I had an early meeting,” Hongjoong says. 

“I know,” Seonghwa says. “But you should have woken me up, even if it was just for a little bit. Preferably with a kiss~” 

“Gross,” Hongjoong says, willing his ears to stop heating up. Seonghwa looks… disappointed, though, and Hongjoong temporarily sheds his rock hard shell to allow himself to say, “I’ll do that next time. Okay?” 

“Okay,” Seonghwa says happily. “I keep having to pinch myself to make sure I wasn’t just fantasizing about you being in love with me back.” 

Hongjoong narrows his eyes, embarrassed at how much more of an open book Seonghwa is with his emotions now that they’ve finally revealed their feelings to each other, no more obstacles or barriers of mistaken identities between them. 

“I fell in love with you twice,” Hongjoong says, dryly. He doesn’t know why Seonghwa feels any doubt about this, when he had essentially watched Hongjoong fall in love with both versions of him. “Would you like me to fall in love with you a third time, so you can make sure? Mr. Hwaseong? While you watch me stress out about your third identity? I think another spin off of your name would be pretty clever. How about going by _giant pumpkin head_ —” 

“I already said I was sorry,” Seonghwa whines. “It’s not like I enjoyed keeping it a secret from you.” 

“Then what should I do to make you feel more at ease?” Hongjoong asks. He personally feels like his desire for Seonghwa is written all over his face, like an obnoxious neon sign that reads _I love you, you big idiot,_ but Seonghwa obviously doesn’t see it that way. 

“Oh,” Seonghwa says, perking up as he shoves his hand into his pocket to search for something. “I nearly forgot about this until you said that, and it’s a good thing I brought it.” 

“Hm?” 

Seonghwa pulls out a small velvet box. “Here.” 

“For me?” Hongjoong says, taking it from Seonghwa’s hand, and doesn’t think much as he lifts the lid to see what’s inside. 

When he sees what’s inside and _recognizes_ it, he nearly drops the box. 

It’s the matching ring to the one Seonghwa’s wearing on his hand right now, an infinite loop of delicate, silver leaves intertwining, and Hongjoong bites on his lower lip as realization sinks in, that Seonghwa had been wearing this ring for Blue, for _Hongjoong._ He’s been so preoccupied with everything else they’ve discussed to fill in the gaps that he’d skipped right over the mysterious ring and who it was for, but in hindsight, the answer seems ridiculously obvious. 

“If you put it on, I’ll feel at ease~” Seonghwa says. 

“No,” Hongjoong says, and Seonghwa frowns at him. 

“Why not?” 

“Okay, it’s not because I don’t love you,” Hongjoong says, because he feels like without some form of a disclaimer, Seonghwa’s going to pinch himself a million more times to try and remember that Hongjoong _genuinely_ likes him, and Hongjoong doesn’t want that. “But someone is going to notice me wearing a ring on my finger by virtue of me never wearing rings and also virtue of it matching the ring on your hand, and then I’m going to be set on fire when people realize it’s not a coincidence.” 

“That won’t happen,” Seonghwa says. His eyebrows lift, in the middle, making him look like a kicked puppy, and Hongjoong holds onto his resolve the best he can even as it starts to slip out of his hands. 

“You know it will,” Hongjoong says. “Have you forgotten Helen exists?” 

“I’ll just have her fired,” Seonghwa says sulkily, and Hongjoong snorts. “Can’t you try it on right now? I wanna see~” 

“Fine,” Hongjoong says, and plucks the ring up with his thumb and index finger to slip it onto the ring finger of his other hand. 

“Oh good, it fits,” Seonghwa says, looking pleased. “Good thing I measured your finger in your sleep to double check.” 

Hongjoong blinks. “You did what?” 

“Nothing,” Seonghwa says, and paws at the box in Hongjoong’s palm to try and reclaim it. “Well, now that it’s on your hand, let me just take the box since it would be _such_ a bother for you to remove the ring—” 

“I know what you’re doing,” Hongjoong says, tightening his hold on the box. “I’m not going to wear it out in the open, Seonghwa. That’s asking for trouble.” 

Seonghwa forces his lower lip to tremble, his last resort at persuasion, and Hongjoong narrows his eyes because he’s weak to Seonghwa looking upset even if he knows Seonghwa is just trying to get what he wants with exaggerated puppy eyes and what limited acting skills he has. “Don’t do that.”

“But it would make me so happy,” Seonghwa wheedles, and that has the remnants of Hongjoong’s resolve sliding out of his hands and onto the floor between them like Jello. “And your hands are really, really pretty, but they would look _even_ prettier with the ring on them.” 

Hongjoong squints at him. 

“Please,” Seonghwa says, grabbing onto Hongjoong’s sleeve and swinging Hongjoong’s arm like a child pleading for one more candy bar. “Please, _please—_ ” 

“I’ll think about it,” Hongjoong says in defeat, and Seonghwa immediately drops the desperate, wailing act to grin at him. 

_Shit,_ Hongjoong thinks, because he’s absolutely whipped enough for Seonghwa that he’ll do anything to see him happy, and he should probably be more worried, but if he’s being honest, he doesn’t really mind being at Seonghwa’s mercy when he knows Seonghwa loves him back just as much. 

✩ ✩ ✩

It’s an easy decision to make, whether or not to wear the ring. 

Hongjoong is embarrassingly generous to the people he cares about the most, but he also loves to bully them into submission with words and pranks that are meant to poke fun but not actually puncture. 

For three days, Seonghwa doesn’t say anything about the ring, just takes what he thinks are secretive glances at Hongjoong’s hand to check whether Hongjoong has put on the ring. Hongjoong’s fingers are always bare, and he tries not to notice or laugh whenever Seonghwa pouts upon the discovery that it is yet another day that Hongjoong is not wearing the ring. 

By the time Friday rolls around, Hongjoong decides that Seonghwa has suffered enough to earn a reward, and he drops by Seonghwa’s office after lunch. They didn’t eat together because Hongjoong had a prior work engagement scheduled, but he has time now, and San nods to him in greeting when Hongjoong passes by his cubicle. 

“Seonghwa’s not busy~” he says with a smile, innocent but a little knowing as always, and Hongjoong smiles back politely, giving himself a mental reminder to ask Seonghwa what San knows about their relationship. 

Seonghwa’s face brightens as soon as he spots Hongjoong standing in his doorway. It’s still a little nerve-wracking for Hongjoong to actually see all the little signals and changes in body language in Seonghwa that prove he makes Seonghwa as happy as he does, even if Seonghwa grows increasingly expressive about his feelings by the day, in more ways than one. 

“Hongjoong?” 

“Hi,” Hongjoong says. 

“How was your meeting?” Seonghwa asks. “You can close the door if you want.” 

“Nothing special,” Hongjoong says, doing as Seonghwa suggests, waiting until the door clicks into place and fully closes before he approaches Seonghwa’s desk. 

He can see Seonghwa’s gaze drop as soon as Hongjoong gets close enough, trying to check whether Hongjoong is wearing the ring. Hongjoong lets him look long enough to see that there’s nothing on Hongjoong’s hand, feeling only a little sorry at the disappointment written all over Seonghwa’s face because he’s going to take that disappointment away very soon. 

“You keep looking in the wrong place,” Hongjoong says, offering a hint to see if Seonghwa catches on, and Seonghwa gives him a confused look. 

“What are you…?” 

“Sometimes you have to scale back and look at the big picture,” Hongjoong says. “Where else can rings be worn?” 

“Rings only belong on fingers,” Seonghwa says, pouting. “Does that mean you’re wearing it?” 

Hongjoong reaches under the collar of his black dress shirt to pull out the necklace he’s been wearing since three days ago, to which he’s attached the ring Seonghwa gave him and used as a pendant. 

Seonghwa’s eyes go sparkly and soft and _gross_ as soon as he realizes, and Hongjoong asks, “Are you satisfied now?” 

“Oh,” Seonghwa says. He smiles the biggest smile Hongjoong has ever seen on him, standing up and walking around his desk to get close to Hongjoong. “Oh, oh.” He leans down in order to see the ring better, thumbing at it appreciatively before he straightens his posture and grins even wider at Hongjoong. When they’re this close, Hongjoong can almost see the individual hairs of Seonghwa’s long, straight eyelashes, all as pretty and lovely as the rest of him. 

“Stop _oh_ -ing,” Hongjoong says, gruffly, as he shoves the necklace back so that his collar is hiding the ring again, and Seonghwa takes advantage of the moment to place his hands on Hongjoong’s shoulders and kiss Hongjoong on the forehead. “Seonghwa.” 

“Nobody saw~” Seonghwa says. 

“Behave,” Hongjoong says, although it doesn’t come out as harsh as he plans. 

“It’s so hard, when I want to show you off to everyone,” Seonghwa says. Hongjoong thinks Seonghwa’s admiring the necklace, still, until Seonghwa’s eyes go a little dark, and then Hongjoong realizes it’s something else entirely. 

With other people, Hongjoong has always found himself wondering what it was like to be enough for someone, what else he needed to do to make himself worthy of love. But as he stands in front of Seonghwa, whose attention and affection is undividedly directed at Hongjoong, Hongjoong realizes that this red planet was made just for him, and that all he’s ever needed to do is to be bravely himself. 

“I like the dress shirt, by the way,” Seonghwa says, gaze crawling back up to rest on Hongjoong’s face, and Hongjoong is going to melt too fast under the intensity of that stare. “Oho, it’s a good thing my office has blinds that fully close~” 

“Don’t say gross things,” Hongjoong says, his ears feeling hot as Seonghwa grins at him, slow and predatory. “I’m leaving.” 

Hooking one finger into the chain of Hongjoong’s necklace, Seonghwa pulls just lightly enough to let Hongjoong know what he wants but not hard enough that it’ll hurt him. 

“Do you really want to leave?” Seonghwa asks, kissing the corner of Hongjoong’s mouth before biting at Hongjoong’s bottom lip, and Hongjoong kisses him back because no, he doesn’t. 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! 
> 
> **please please please consider leaving comment here if you liked this! it's very important to let fic writers know they're not just posting stuff into the void!!!!!!**
> 
> edit (11.2.2020): am unbelievably grateful for all the love i've received on this fic! please know that i read all comments and they always brighten up my day!!


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